HackerPocalypse 2011 - The Story

September 12, 2011 thdpr

Here is the first part of a two-part story. This is the story of HackerPocalypse 2011.I am a savvy online person. I can spot scams a mile away. I debunk chain letters and forwards. This scam was so insidious that I was caught in its web. If I was caught, you could be too. This first part is the story of what happened, the next blog will be about how to prevent it and what to do when it happens to you. As my cousin said, "There are two kinds of people in this world. Those that have been hacked and those that will be."It was 5:30 in the morning on a Thursday. I was coming off a rough week. We had three events that week. The lead up was harsh. 60-70 hour work weeks. Coming home only to sleep, change and go back to work. I was busting tush. We got to unwind after the last event on Wednesday with a few adult beverages and afterwards I headed home. I was beat. So extremely exhausted. I finally went to bed around 10:30. I fell into bed totally wiped out.At 5:30 in the morning I started getting texts. One eye open, I noticed the name and decided I would go back to sleep. Why the heck would he be texting me at 5:30 in the morning? Whatever, check it later. I had tossed and turned all night... my brain never fully shutting off. I just wanted my last 2 hours of sleep... I wasn't to get them.Next was a text from my brother on the east coast. Weird. He rarely texts and never this early. What is going on? With one eye open I see the words "email" and "robbed." I close my eyes. "Was Ronin robbed? Did I get an email? Is my little brother okay?" I am starting to realize I won't be able to go back asleep when the next two texts come in. Both from a local friend. I put together that the first two texts were friends on the east coast but this was close to home. Why was Eric texting me at 5:45 in the morning? Seriously, dude... I'm sleeping.I open both eyes to read this one... "Your personal email has been hacked - change your password ASAP!"I sit bolt upright. WHAT?I try to access my email on my phone. Last email received: 2:17 a.m.It is now 6:07 a.m. and I can't access them. In just about 4 hours, they locked me out of my email.I am half awake, dizzy with the vertigo I try to avoid by not sitting bolt upright from a prone position, made worse by my confusion and exhaustion. I try accessing everything from my, what now looks like an extraordinarily tiny, iPhone screen.Dude. Seriously? I stumble to my living room put my computer on the floor and stretch out. Lights are still off in an attempt to fix the problem and still catch some zzzzzzz's... 5 or 10 minutes later these exact words cross my mind, "Not Likely."This is going to be harder than I expected. I can't access any of my gmail accounts. Eric sends me the text of the message to my work account. This is the first time I see what all 500 of my contacts (friends, family, work acquaintances, strangers who emailed me once, businesses) saw...

HiMy regrets for this sudden request, I have been involved in a robberyduring my trip to Madrid, Spain. I got mugged and all my belongingscash, mobile phone and credit cards were all stolen at gun point. Ineed your help as am trying to raise some money.I've made contact with my bank but they are not providing a fastsolution. I need you to lend me some money to sort my self out of thispredicament, will pay back once I get this over with.Please let me know if you can assist me in anyway so i can forward youdetails to effect a transfer. You can reach me via email or thehotel's desk phone +3493106____.ThanksTalia--Talia H DavisMarketing Manager*Allied Jewish Federation of Colorado"In the midst of difficulty, lies opportunity." --Albert Einstein"All the world's a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed." --Sean O'Casey

That is it in its entirety (with some of the phone number removed so no one contacts them). Did you find this blog because you searched this information? Good. Keep reading and read my second blog about what to do when this happens to you. I found out some tricky information.Well, I imagine it was shocking to the 300 people I saw the day before at a huge event that I had, evidently hopped on a plane, gone to Madrid, gotten mugged at gun point, and emailed them. Shocking how fast the world moves.Now that I have given up sleeping, I have settled in for the long haul. I am in my recliner taking the right steps (again a plug for part two, how to fix this once it happens). I find out that they may be jerks but they are smart and fast. They covered their bases. As I am requesting access to my account (because at this point, I had absolutely none and no obvious way to regain access other than Google intervention) I am Googling the scam. I find records that (duh) this has happened many times before. I let those who have been there, guide me. I learn tips and tricks but I also learn something horrifying... in many of these testimonials the hackers deleted all of their email.WHAT?! Dude, hack my email account my don't destroy my electronic life! Now I am nervous. Will that happen to me or not? Will my emails from my brother who has passed away be safe? The business records I keep in my email? The institutional history I have for various organizations... the horrid memories I, for some sadistic reason, saved in my email.... will they all be gone?I raised this concern to one friend. He laughed it off... this was serious to me. By then it was time for most normal people to get up and the phone was ringing and my Facebook was blowing up. Another dear friend, Mel, who is also a writer, got on with me. When I told her I knew and what I feared awaited me when I had access again, she understood. You see we are both collectors of words. That was a 10 year collection and I feared it was gone.I began changing every password to something different and obscure, praying I could remember all of them. They had access to my bank info, Facebook, etc. In fact, Mel said they had been on my Facebook chat at one point. Everything got changed. Down to my password for this blog. I wasn't going to let these people have anything more than they have taken already.I was granted access to my account again around 8 am. I was scared to see what I would find.Inbox: EmptyFamily folder: EmptyMoney folder: EmptySent folder: EmptyIt was the same in every folder. I had a lot of them.... and a lot of emails. One person online had said their emails were in the trash folder. I checked it. Over 11,000 emails in the trash. WHEW! They hadn't made them disappear forever.First step, passwords all changed.Second step, settings checked.... what's this? They had changed my email to forward every single incoming email to an account they set up - taliah.davis@ymail.com (clearly they didn't know me). I cleaned that up right away. Hackers, you are SHUT DOWN!Third step, I emailed everyone to tell them this:

Well friends and family and acquaintances who I happened to email at any point in my life...You might have received an email from me very early this morning telling you I was in Madrid and needed money. I amA. not in MadridB. not been robbed at gun pointandC. while we are all always in need of money... don't need you to do anything.My email was hacked. Every email that I ever had dumped into the trash for me to try to recover. Please ignore that email and NEVER, NEVER put your password into any website or anything. I can't figure out when or where or how this happened to me but it is becoming all too common.Call this an opportunity for us to catch up. Very sorry for any inconvenience.Best,Talia

It turned out to be a great vehicle for catching up with old friends. Once that as out, I started the process of trying to recover my email.I went to the trash and was saving hundreds of current emails at a time. Then I thought, well the older ones are the more precious so do that first. I got some saved from November to March of this year (the time I was finishing up in Israel and then moving back to Colorado) when, while chatting with Mel online and on the phone with my mothers...BLINKThe trash permanently deleted.I hyperventilated This can't be happening.Gone. All gone.My mother is screaming a million miles away... "Talia! Talia! Talk to me! What happened??"I'm crying hysterically. I tell her that my emails deleted themselves. They must have left a program to do something or were still in the account and saw what I was doing.I used the Gmail feature to force anyone logged in out of the account and cried. My moms tried to console me. I needed to hang up. Several friends were chatting with me and asking what was going on through Facebook or GChat or text message. Most people said, "That sucks."Mel got it.We mourned together for those lost words, sent into cyberspace by the evil hackers.I called my father. He was meeting with another rabbi in Denver that day, unbeknownst to me. He calmed me down. He reminded me that I had the memories of the things I lost but also that it was literally, that day, the start of a new month, Elul. Elul is the last month before Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It's a time for refreshing and renewing and letting go of the past.These hackers, whom I am tempted to call many nasty names, gave me freedom from the electronic chains that held me to some of my past.Once I did all I could do online, I closed my laptop and crawled back into bed. It was almost 10am. Four and a half hours after this ordeal began with a text message. I took a 20 minute nap and got up feeling refreshed. I dressed and met my father for a rare treat, a lunch together.We talked and he counciled me. Go to your specialists, right? My father is a specialist in sitting in council.My mothers, on the other hand, they called every computer person they ever met or heard of trying to fix this for me.Mel mourned the words with me.Eric told me to get a dirty chai (even though I felt nauseous) and face the day.My brother played it cool and quiet, in his perfect way. Offering support when I needed it but hanging back so as not to overwhelm me.And my dear friend Amanda, who saw me later in the day, hugged me, laughed with me, and reminded me that life goes on.The silver lining of the experience was the number of people who said they would have totally believed it if I ran off and had gone to Israel but Madrid? No way. Another friend said he knew it wasn't true because I would have kicked the mugger's butt first. HA! What great friends!It's been over a week since this happened. I've found that I am missing things that I will never recover but mostly, I am not missing much. I feel lighter. I feel refreshed. I still feel angry but I have moved forward.I know people might be reading this thinking, what a self-indulgent woman. What a waste of a blog or how melodramatic... For me, this was the death of something very important. What I lost in those 4 hours can never be recovered. The words of a brother who died, of friends who have died, memories, scraps of thought to write about forever gone into the dark hole of my brain... gone, never to be seen again.But I hope people can learn from this experience. So HackerPocalypse 2011 - The Lesson (aka part 2) will focus on that. Stay tuned.

10 Years Later.

September 11, 2011 thdpr

10 years. I can't believe it has been 10 years. It alternately shocks me and makes me feel old.

You don't realize how old you are until you get the reminders, the landmarks, the moments for which we measure our life.

Two years ago, on the eighth anniversary of 9/11, I wrote my story of the events that happened that day. My experiences. Oh my experiences in Jacksonville, Florida pale in comparison to my friends who were in NYC or the families who lost loved ones but it is my experience. A snapshot of what people across the country experienced. I won't recap it here but if you would like to read it, you are welcome to - 9/11 – 911 – Sept 11 – 11 Sept.

Today I am reflecting on the time that has passed, how the world has changed in the past 10 years. I am fortunate to be old enough to remember what travel was like before the terror attacks. I remember coming home from my trip to Israel in 1997 and being met by my mother, father, step-mother, brother, and grandmother at the gate. Standing there waiting for me to get off the plane. I ran into their arms, I was comforted by their presence. I remember how that all changed on September 12, 2001. I remember the terror in my friends' voices when they had to travel home that Thanksgiving, taking a plane for the first time since the attacks.

I really remember how we, as Americans came together in the days, weeks, months after the attacks. When people started caring about each other. When selfish Americans because caring and careFULL Americans. When we stopped thinking about money and success and grades and getting from point A to point B but ensured each other was safe, healthy, and cared for. Slowly that ebbed. Slowly, America came back to our middle point, our place where the Starbucks across the street is too far for me to travel, I need one right here. Or my sandwich isn't made right or you didn't answer the phone the way I like or your clothing isn't to my standards or I dislike you for no reason other than you are you and not me.We were still unique but we thought somewhat collectively. We all prayed for the safety of each other.

Today we face a different type of hardship. No one flew an airplane into an iconic building (baruch HaShem - thank G-d). The terrorist threat is minimal. We are vigilant and careful to protect our country. But financially and politically we are in a transitional space. A place where we have dueling priorities. Cut budgets, save money, but care for each other. We must recall that time when your first thought was to get your neighbor out of the burning building. We caring for each other trumped buying a new BMW.

I am thankful to have been alive and old enough to remember the lessons from 9/11. It was a scary and terrifying day... and weeks and months... But I learned so much that day. I learned how important the stranger, widow, orphan, and neighbor in our midst is. I learned that success isn't measured by the money I bring in or the car I drive or the clothes I wear... it's measured in the people I help, the goodwill I share with others, the gift of time I give to those who need it...

Deeper than reaching into your pocket is reaching into your heart.

This is the Kaddish, the mourner's prayer. The prayer we say everyday for one year after losing someone and then yearly on their anniversary of their death. Notice there is very little mention about death in this prayer. The Mourner's Kaddish is not for G-d but for us... a reminder of people and time long gone.

We glorify and sanctify G-d's great name throughout the world which G-d has created according to G-d's will. May G-d establish G-d's kingdom in our lifetime and during our days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; Amen.

May G-d's great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.

Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored, adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that are ever spoken in the world; Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us and for all Israel; Amen.

G-d who creates peace in G-d's celestial heights, may G-d create peace for us and for all Israel; Amen.

Obituary for CeCe Davis

June 18, 2011 thdpr

Cece Davis, known to her friends as CeCe the Civic, was born in 1996 in Japan. She passed away June 14, 2011 at 9:05 am in Denver, Colorado. The final cause of death was found to be a defective distributor cap, shot spark plugs and ignition wires, however, CeCe had been suffering many illnesses for a long time. At her death, she was bald (front two tires only), a badge which she wore proudly as those were her winter tires she still holding on to.Cece's long and illustrious life began in a factory in Japan. She loved her home country until the day she died, though was never able to return. As an infant orphaned car, she traveled to Miami, Florida to await a new home. She was soon spotted by the Davis family. The Davises, disillusioned by their previous vehicle, the Eclipse, were looking for a family car. They traveled to Miami to purchase a new car on the advice of Iana's brother, Paul. It is here, on a car lot in Miami, that the Davis Family found CeCe in March of 1997. Coincidentally, it was close to Talia's 16th birthday (CeCe's new owner/sister). Though CeCe was not leased for Talia, they would come to form a deep and unique relationship and bond. Once she arrived at her new home in Vero Beach, CeCe found herself a bit nervous. Fortunately, the old household vehicles soon put her at ease. Talia and CeCe would soon become extremely close as adopted sisters, however, their relationship was a bit bumpy at first. While Talia had learned to drive on a stick shift, she had to learn to feel CeCe's unique personality... which lead to many stalls and jumps. It was nearly a year before Talia was allowed to drive her on her own. Life settled into normalcy for the Davis family. CeCe became familiar with the terrain and could almost drive herself to the synagogue where her new father, Rabbi Davis worked. She proudly stood tall in the parking lot on Shabbat, waiting to take the family home for Shabbat dinner. One day, CeCe noticed something was different. Her friend, the Mazda mini van was gone and replacing her were three Land Rovers. CeCe was soon to learn that the Davis Family were moving to Colorado... and leaving her behind. She was inconsolable until she learned that Talia would be taking over as her new mother and she would be attending college with Talia. What an exciting adventure for a young car! Talia and CeCe got along swell these days... eating breakfast together in the mornings on the way to school... putting on make up on the way to school... listening to and rewinding and listening to again the Beastie Boys tape Adriana had gotten them.CeCe went to stay with their grandmother in Palm Coast while the rest of the family drove to Colorado. It was a short time before Talia was back to make the trek to college. CeCe enjoyed her time at Jacksonville University, despite the life long sunburn she endured from living outside in the Florida sun. She made trips to Atlanta, Orlando, New York, and Miami, living up the college lifestyle. There was much to get used to, though. Friends smoking cigarettes or "special" cigarettes in her, late night trips to the Gate station to get Krispie Kremes, and even a stint of CeCe being used as temporary lodgings for a short time when Talia didn't have a place to sleep. CeCe finished school at Jacksonville University in May of 2003 but stayed on that summer to assist Talia in managing the school's swimming pool. They then packed up and drove to Colorado. CeCe would often brag at how much Talia could fit in her and that Talia could move by only packing up the car and didn't even need a trailer.Living in Colorado was challenging for CeCe to start. She was unaccustomed to the cold and the mountainous terrain posed some challenges for her engine. Talia and CeCe used to often joke that her A/C button was the turbo button since she could zoom faster with it off. This stems from a trip they took in Talia's senior year of high school to her camp, Camp Coleman, in the mountains of Georgia. The infamous driveway out of camp is very steep and CeCe would not be able to make it up unless her A/C was turned off. That was just one of many fun road trips they took together. Another memorable one was when CeCe and Talia drove 24 hours to get from Wichita to Jacksonville in one day so Talia could pick up her keys for her senior year of college. They danced and sung the whole drive... then both collapsed into their beds when they arrived at JU. The last of their big adventures was when Talia moved to LA. Once again, she packed up CeCe and they drove away. Both girls collapsed at 2am in Vegas, both seeing the Strip for the first time. However, neither Talia nor CeCe enjoyed LA and within 9 months, they were packing up again to drive back to Colorado, this time with their brother, Ronin, in tow. Talia and Ronin didn't plan so well and they packed CeCe full with the driver seat in a position so Talia (5'3") could drive... thus when Ronin (6'1") tried to drive, he couldn't move the seat and Talia had to drive the whole way. Along for the ride was Talia and CeCe's pet hamster, Fuzzy. Fuzzy believed that by running in her wheel, she was driving CeCe. Not wanting Fuzzy to feel sad, CeCe allowed her to continue feel that way. It was a sweet moment between friends. Sadly, this was also the trip that was life threatening for all involved. A blizzard hit Arizona while they were on the road. Despite Talia's safe driving and CeCe's best attempts, they hit a patch of black ice and spun out. After rotating three and a half times, all the travelers were scared out of their wits. They decided it was time to find a hotel for the night. In the morning, CeCe was buried under a couple of feet of snow. They dug out and continued their adventure home.CeCe stayed close to home in her later years. Talia pushed her on a few trips up the mountain but she was getting older and just wasn't as spry as in her youth. Over the years, she developed some funny quirks and started to show her age. She lost her front bumper, had a partial bridge put in but soon lost it in an accident on I-25. She had her windshield replaced several times due to rock chips and cracking. In her later years, her tape player then CD player stopped working. Her radio dial would not respond to commands often going up when it needed to go down and down when it needed to go up. Her rear driver door stopped opening and passenger windows stopped going down. But funniest of her quirks was her turn signals. A true Florida girl, when the winter came in for good, she would stop automatically turning off her signals but when it warmed up for good she would start working as normal. Always a jokester till the end.CeCe lost her battle on June 14 at 9:05am at 13th and Monroe st, where she stopped a stop sign and never got started again. She was towed to a shop where she was pronounced dead at 11:16am. She is survived by her sister and best friend: Talia, her brother: Ronin, parents: Reb Bahir, Hedvah, and Iana, and many friends and extended family. Most notably of her friends, Justine Veree Naiman whose car preceded CeCe in death and was CeCe's best friend in LA.CeCe requested any tributes or flowers be sent to Talia to aid her in purchasing a new car... which CeCe also insisted on in her last puffs. The family will be sitting an abbreviated shiva as CeCe was a car and not technically Jewish (though she proudly wore a car mezzuzah on her kepi (head), a picture of the Rebbe around her neck (review mirror), and kept a Tanach inside her).Baruch Dayan haEmet (Blessed is the true judge)

Hashgacha Pratis = Divine Providence = Fate?

June 18, 2011 thdpr

I know a lot of people don't believe in hashgacha pratis or divine providence or the invisible hand of G-d. I don't know that I always believed in it either. BUT a recent turn of events made me think that someone is certainly watching out for me. I knew there had to be someone. I mean honestly. The fact that I have only had to sleep in my car once for a few days... that despite moments of serious poverty, I managed to find food to eat most of the time... someone had to be watching out over me and my family. The most recent example of this happened last week when my car died.My poor CeCe the Civic. Sweet thing. She was 15 years old, half as old as I am. My father got her when we lived in Florida and I learned to drive on her. She was my dad's car but I drove her more often than not. He graciously allowed me to use it my senior year of high school, unless it was raining out and he couldn't ride his Harley to shul. In college I took over the payments for her and then, with the help of some family members, bought her outright. I tried to remember to change her oil and do the right maintenance but, reference to above, there were many times when there just wasn't money for it. I was one of very few freshmen at Jacksonville University who had a car but she was a stick shift so no one could borrow her... We had a grand time. She took me up and down the coast of Florida more times than I can count. She made the drive to and from Colorado many times and then to and from California once. I would go on but I will write a reminiscence of my car soon. This blog is about fate.I was so thankful to have four wheels, even though by the end she was so sunburnt and missing her front bumper. She wasn't the prettiest girl in the neighborhood but I didn't have car payments. There were many, many years in my career that a car payment would have sunk me. It would have been a choice between not eating all month and making a payment or eating and no car payment. Despite accidents and issues, she stuck around.It wasn't until last Tuesday that she puffed her very last breath. I believe that she (or G-d) felt that I was finally safe and in a place to make a very necessary car payment. Let's look at the facts:By last Tuesday I had:

Received an insurance payment from an accident that happened 5 years ago. The insurance companies dragged it out so long but I finally got paid!
A steady job. One that pays me regularly and where I do not fear that an administrator will say, "Sorry team, can't give you your paychecks this month, we are short." Which, of course, had been the unsteady case for the past two years. Prior to that my job paid me so little that it is quite literally shocking.
Finally moved into downtown Denver... where the buses are accessible and if, perhaps, say your car breaks down that you can take a bus (within the fabulous RTD system) to and from work within 20 minutes with little hassle and pretend that you are living in Manhattan and read the book you have been meaning to read forever all for just $2.25 each way.

If my car had broken down without all of these steps, without one of these steps, I would have been royally screwed. Without the money, I can't make a down payment. Without the job, I couldn't MAKE A payment. Had she broken down when I didn't live in Denver, I might have freaked out a little more and bought the first car I saw for cheap.Sometimes I like to say that it was my car, CeCe, looking out for me. Sometimes I like to say it was my Grandpas, looking down and trying to make sure their Tali was safe. But wrap those both together and you see that it is really G-d in my life. G-d has protected me and will continue to do so. Now, G-d hasn't made it easy by any means. This car process has been one of the most stressful events in my life! Did you know everyone has an opinion on a car? Sheesh! But it has also been an important reminder... man plans, G-d laughs... or maybe just chuckles a little bit. We can plan all we want, because we have free will as to how we get to the destination but the destination is all planned.Seeing the little miracles or joys along the way, that's the bonus.

Advice To Women or How To Be A Bad Ass 101

June 9, 2011 thdpr

I will argue with you if you tell me that a woman can't do what a man can do... in general. But there are some very clear gender attributes (for lack of a better word). One of those is our female predilection for getting down on ourselves. We women are SO mean to ourselves sometimes!! And thus, we need some reminders.Here are three different sets of reminders. Two were aimed specifically at women and the last are from Amy Poehler's speech at Harvard's graduation.Why is this so important? Because sometimes it is just too hard to remember how much of a bad ass each one of us are. Sometimes you need girlfriend to remind you... and I am happy to be that girlfriend.The first is from a dear friend we shall call Z.Sa. She has always been and will always be a dear friend and an inspiration. I read this when I am down and need a boost:

How to be a bad ass 101:

Homework for this week: make a list of 10 people you admire and one attribute of each of those people that contributes to your love for them. Find those things in yourself, and if they are missing - strive to make them happen.

Everyone thinks you have it all. The grass is always greener. They say that for a reason. Act like you are together, and eventually you will start to believe yourself.

Wear mascara every day.

Be selfish in order to better serve the ones you love. The more you have, the more you have to offer.

Give yourself the same advice that you would give your daughter --- then take it.

Assume that when people are staring at you, it is because they want what you've got ... not because they are judging you.

Floss. Happy gums make a happy girl.

Get a hobby that is completely different from anything you have ever tried. Make it something you know will be hard for you. Be invigorated by that challenge and proud of your willingness to fail. It is ok to fail at something that doesn't matter. It is ok to fail.

Use what you know. Spot. When a dancer is spinning, she spots. Look at something. Don't let the spinning make you dizzy. Turn it into art.

Turn a lonely weekend into a weekend alone. Recipe: Do-it-yourself - Manicure. Pedicure. Facial. Bikini wax. Bridget Jones. Warm beverage. It never fails.

Never try to prove that you are smart. People who know it, don't care if anybody else does.

Roll your eyes and chuckle at yourself. Trust that when you are 40, you will look back at your 20's and laaaugh.

Wear pink.

Ask for help. People love to feel needed. Your friends will be happy that they made your life better.

Bake cookies. Find a fire station. Deliver cookies. Firemen are hot.

Remember, you are HUGE in Japan.

Know who loves you, and hang the rest.

Next comes from a very wise woman who has adopted me as her little sister and mini me. This red headed phenom always has the right thing to say to me, what I need to hear... even when it sucks. We will call her DN:

"Do not language yourself into drama."

"Always remember, when dealing with a man... 'Being with me is a privilege and not an obligation. If this is an obligation for you, move on.'"

And lastly, from Amy Poehler:

"Take your risks now, as you grow older you become more fearful and less flexible — and I mean that literally. I hurt my knee on the treadmill this week — and it wasn't even on."

"I cannot stress enough that the answer to life's questions is often in people's faces. Try putting your iPhones down once in a while, and look in people's faces. People's faces will tell you amazing things. Like if they are angry, or nauseous, or asleep."

"I moved to Chicago in the early 1990s and I studied improvisation there. I learned some rules that I try to apply still today: Listen. Say yes. Live in the moment. Make sure you play with people who have your back. Make big choices early and often. Don't start a scene where two people are talking about jumping out of a plane. Start the scene having already jumped. If you're scared, look into your partner's eyes — you will feel better."

"As you navigate through the rest of your life, be open to collaboration. Other people and other people's ideas are often better than your own. Find a group of people who challenge and inspire you, spend a lot of time with them, and it will change your life."

"Try to keep your mind open to possibilities and your mouth closed on matters that you don't know about. Limit your 'always' and your 'nevers.' Continue to share your heart with people even if it has been broken. Don't treat your heart like an action figure wrapped in plastic and never used. And don't try to give me that nerd argument that your heart is a Batman with a limited-edition silver bat-erang and therefore if it stays in its original packing it increases in value."

What she says about her improv education is so true. Say yes to everything. Nothing kills a scene faster than saying, "No, actually..." Listen more than you speak and trust the people you keep around you.Every chick needs a pick me up sometimes... I hope these help you too. :)

10,000 visits

June 8, 2011 thdpr

May 31, 2011: my blog hit 10,000 views. Wow.I can't honestly say that when I started this venture I believed I would hit 10,000 views or have stayed committed to blogging long enough to hit that number. Nor did I think what I had to say was interesting enough. But a lot has changed since I started blogging.When I began blogging, I had zero faith in my ability to write. I hid behind the writers in my life. I claimed it wasn't my strength, that I was good at other things.I still don't claim that I am a writer (though it does say so on my freelance business cards) and I don't know that I will ever have the incredible writing skills that my father and brother possess but I think I can hold my own. And the experience of blogging has played a major part in that.When I began blogging, I made the conscious choice that my life would be open to the public. Not that it wasn't before. I am a very honest person, if you ask me a question I will tell you the truth (especially about me, I don't work really well on deception). But I knew that by adding a blog to my social media menagerie, I would be making this information public to ... well ... the public. I started out writing solely about work and my passions but as the blog has evolved, it has become more personal... an outlet for my feelings. However, I have recently realized that I don't really want that. I have reevaluated my level of sharing online. I don't really care if you know where I am (FourSquare) or what my thoughts are in 140 characters (twitter) or what I like to take pictures of (Posterious and Flickr) but when it comes to my dating life or family, I have learned that people can take those ideas and twist them to hurt you.There are a few things that I very strongly don't believe in:Lashon Hara (speaking badly about people behind their back, in front of their backs, where ever).Judgement. In any form, it is hurtful.Thinking the worst of someone when you don't have all the facts.Being mean or negative.I can be kind to a fault. Trusting and understanding and caring to the point where I get hurt. And my blog started to become an extension of me that could be used to hurt others or myself. So I find myself challenged.Why challenged? Because I had to much to write about while I was in Israel. There were so many amazing events and happenings, and things I learned that the blogs flowed. Prior to that, I was so immersed in social media that I could write about it all day. When I came home from Israel, the natural progression was to continue to write about myself and my experiences... but that is not really valid anymore. Today, I find myself in a transition. My new job has given me more of a traditional marketing role (which I love, by the way) but I find myself too busy to read all the articles I wish I could read. Also, I while I navigate the tricky world of dating and friendship, I don't want anything I say online to be twisted and used to hurt. Nor do I want it to inadvertently hurt anyone.So as my blog turns 10,000 please bear with me, my lovely readers. I am refocusing on Judaism and social media and less on Talia and her life.(That's probably more interesting for ya, anyway!)

Why Honesty Is Always The Best Policy

May 1, 2011 thdpr

I was talking to a friend tonight about how so much hurt can be avoided if people were just honest with each other. We both recounted bad experiences and lessons that could have been learned easier if only we or our partners had the guts to just tell truth. What I think is so funny is you can always see it when someone else is in the middle of it but never when it is your own situation. You watch movies or read books and watch lives and relationships unravel all because of a misunderstanding or the inability to just have a simple conversation.And I am not denying that the conversation is one of the hardest ones most of us are faced with, however, for 20 minutes of facing reality and confronting yourself and your partner with the truth, you can save hours, days, weeks, months, even years of pain, hurt, and resentment. But this seems to be the one conversation we shy away from.I was telling my friend about a situation with a guy I was seeing a few years back. We were having a blast, cooking together, enjoying each other's company. For a few months we had a great time and without warning or a word, he stopped calling me. He stopped returning text messages, forgetting or canceling our dates. He was always too busy to see me. But I never knew why. He always had an excuse but never a reason.So I finally got him to meet me for lunch. I wasn't living in Denver then and drove all the way down to meet him at a restaurant. We got 30 minutes into lunch... an excruciating 30 minutes, until I just asked him what the hell was going on. What happened to us? He fumbled. He stumbled. He poked around until he finally came out and told me he had started seeing someone else.I won't say I wasn't hurt because I was. I was sad. But I think I was really sad because he couldn't tell me. Because he had led me on for weeks, letting me believe he cared about me when in reality he wanted to be with someone else. And he didn't understand why I was hurt. I politely, yet abruptly got up and left the restaurant wishing I never had to see him again. Except, at the time, we worked together and I had to work with him every so often. And that was hard and I will be honest and say I was a bit vindictive in my conversations with him at the time (the woman he dumped me for was in the process of a divorce but in the very early stages... when she became available, I became irrelevant).It never feels good to be worthless to someone, easily thrown over... that isn't a good feeling for anyone.But sadly, that wasn't the only time this has happened to me. A very similar... nearly identical situation has happened more recently. And in addition to that there was the guy who kept me a secret until I realized I was just the girl that he was ashamed of but liked to have around. Why else would you keep someone hidden? So I ask, why can't you just be honest with me? Tell me where you are in your life, tell me that you enjoy my company (only if you do) but are involved with someone else or hope to be involved with someone else.It is just so unreal. The pain that comes from the omission, the clearly avoidable pain. Because finding out this way makes you question yourself... makes you think, "I must not be as good as them." And frankly, that just isn't fair to me.I have adopted the honesty policy for myself. After these types of situations and being in relationships that are uncomfortable, I try to be honest with my partner... and I've been called mean and a bitch for it but it really does spare the pain in the long run.And the, I suppose, funniest part of this whole thing... I don't hate them. They hurt me, a lot, yes. Their cowardice and inability to look me in the eye and say, "I am sorry but..." is painful but they were in my life for some reason and I still care for them. But that is a burden I put on myself and I take that responsibility.So just be honest. Please. It sucks for a minute but saves you the long-term hurt.

Secret Keepers

April 30, 2011 thdpr

I think it's really funny when people act badly and ask you to keep their secret... but then treat you poorly. You see, secrets are contingent on the people you ask to keep them. What is the motivation for someone to keep your secret if you are nasty and disrespectful to them?I just find that remarkable. Also, unfathomable. But I am not saying that you shouldn't ask or expect your friends to keep your secrets or that sharing is bad but to perpetrate a secret and then blatantly turn your back on the person who is holding it, is a bad plan.As a person who holds a lot of secrets for a lot of people, I never understood the lack of respect or tact.It's all about respect and if you want someone to keep something quiet, disrespecting them is a bad plan.Lots of things on my mind lately, I guess.

I'm Sorry But The Turnover Rate Is Just Too High

April 27, 2011 thdpr

Look, lately I am having this problem. Really awesome friends are leaving Colorado. And frankly, that is just not cool.First it was my dear friend Ben. We went to high school in Israel together 14 years ago (FOURTEEN YEARS! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?!) and several years ago he landed in Denver. It was so great. I needed a roommate and he needed an apartment. Fabulous! He was my roommate, my friend, my protector, my faux husband (he is VERY good at killing spiders), a support, a stable force, and a damn good mover. He helped me out whenever I needed him and listened to my crazy stories. He is a true and very special friend. Not to mention he is an MOT (*Member of the Tribe). I'll miss our roommate dinners and being able to call him when I can't hang a picture or there is a spider in my tub. But he is off to bigger and better things. I am incredibly proud of him. He went back to school as an adult and is living out his dream of becoming a doctor. So I wish him lots of luck and hope that he enjoys his two years on a Caribbean, YES CARIBBEAN island... man that's rough! :) Follow his travels here - Saba Barefoot Next, is my friend Ezra. Ez and I have a different history. We met for the first time at a coffee shop in Denver. I wanted to get more involved in the young Jewish community. Ez was the only person who answered my emails or calls. He was a bundle of energy and left me enthused to be involved. I landed on the E-3 board because of him and count all three E's as dear and close friends all stemming from this one encounter with Ezra. I can honestly say that if it wasn't for Ezra I would not have (are you ready for this list?):* Joined the E-3 board* Gotten involved with the Jews in Denver* Met most of the other Jews I know in Denver* Met Devora Leah Popack which lead to...* Going to Snorkel and Study* Been motivated to go to Israel* Actually applied to go to Israel* Gotten the funding from MASA and the Allied Jewish Federation for Israel* Gone VIP to the Idan Raichel concert in Jerusalem* Hung out with the Denver crew in Jerusalem* Met some really special and amazing people on that Denver crew in Jerusalem* Started working for the Allied Jewish Federation to save the Jews* Had an awesome weekend at A-Basin* or have become who I am todayEvery person that you meet has an impact on your life. Not often can you trace that impact to life changing events and put the "blame" directly on their doorstep. I can with Ezra. He inspires me everyday in my work and I can only dream of matching his passion for helping our people. And thus, we ship him off to NYC to be a part of the largest Federation in the country and impact so many lives. Well, I know they are going to love having him there and the Jews of New York will be better for it. He has left us Denver folk in good shape with a strong and lasting impression. But he can never be replaced... not professionally and not as a dear friend. And thus, we lose another awesome Jewish guy from Denver.My last leaving friend is not a done deal. My dear bud Aylee. He is considering a move to Tel Aviv. Now this one is hard. I just can't ask my BoyJewFriend to stay in chutz l'aretz (the other lands) when he is just supposed to be in Eretz Yisrael (the land of Israel). How can you tell a man he can't go home? And Tel Aviv is when Aylee feels most at home. But I just don't know if I can take it! Three quality Jewish men leaving Denver?! Three close friends leaving?! So not fair boys. So for now with my Aylees, we are safe. He is just going for a long trip in the end of summer/fall but will be back. But if he decides to move, I would support him. I've known Aylee since an ex-roommate introduced us. We have been close ever since. I have enjoyed my position as pseudo-wife, making shabbat lunch or dinner at his home for mutual friends/guests. He always has a positive disposition and brings light into any room he walks into. I am fortunate to have met him.So this is the story of my turnover. Three dear friends leaving or potentially leaving me. And I feel like you are asking, "Who cares? People move." And you're right. People move. I'm usually that person. I'm used to being the outsider, the new kid... fumbling with my locker code, sitting quietly in the back of the class. But living in Denver, this is the most settled I've ever felt and it is a jarring experience to have friends leave. I never really realized what that feels like because I usually am the one doing the leaving.I'll miss my guys but I am so excited for each and every one of them. B'hatzlacha and nesiah tova, my friends.