Thursday, June 17, 2010

For those of you who know...

Dear All,

For those of you who know, enjoy. For those of you that don't, I apologize for the vulgarity about to ensue. And to the offended, I say, "Relax, have a drink, take a poo."

I hate the pub so much. There are at least like, a gazillion things in the world better than the pub. They consist of the following:

Being burried alive is better than the pub.

AIDS is better than the pub.

Racism is better than the pub.

Murdering people in the name of god is better than the pub.

Female genital mutilation is better than the pub.

The Holocaust was better than the pub.

Seventh month abortion is better than the pub.

The terrorist attacks on the United States of America on September 11, 2001 were better than the pub.

Saddam Hussein's Iraq was better than the pub.

Rape camps are better than the pub.

The execution of mentally challenged people is better than the pub.

The arranged marriages of 9 year old Afghan girls to 60 year old mullahs are better than the pub.

Bus crashes in India are better than the pub.

Secret assassinations of world leaders are better than the pub.

The capture of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit is better than the pub.

Being anally gang-raped by three black men is better than the pub.

Torture in North Korean prisons is better than the pub.

The US soccer team is better than the pub.

Developing testicular cancer when you are a woman is better than the pub.

Suicide bombings are better than the pub.

Hate crimes against minorities are better than the pub. However, hate crimes against homosexuals are not. Faggots.

Mistaking razor blades for tampons is better than the pub.

The BP Gulf oil spill is better than the pub.

Russian whores are not better than the pub.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

An (Informal) List of (Suggestions and) Ideas

I should...

Write more
Create more
Read more
Dance more
Work more
Love more
Eat more
Photograph more
Listen more
Reflect more
Care more
Respect more
Dare more
Appreciate more
Complain less.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Efshar od echad?

Life is constantly peppered with questions and decisions about practically everything. No deep epiphany in that sentence, surely.

But for some reason it is now that I find myself thinking hard and asking: What kind of person am I? Is that the kind of person I want to be? Do I even know what kind of person I want to be?

In short...well, there is no short.

Since moving to Kibbutz Gaaton in August '09, I have been able to do a lot of self reflecting. As people have moved in and out of my life (and the kibbutz), I have developed a deeper, though not necessarily clearer understanding of myself and my perceptions on life, art, and social interaction.

In dealing with a diverse range of personalities agreeable and otherwise, I have realized that I can be incredibly difficult, hurtful, selfish, dismissive, resentful, and jealous over the tiniest things. I read a self-summarization by a character in a Philip Roth novel who declared that she could be thrown by a syllable and goes through 80 emotions a minute. Not surprisingly, I related.

But to cut myself some slack, I've also learned that I can be selfless, thoughtful, and giving. I've learned to listen to people when they speak. I've surprised myself by just how much I can care about others. I've made a nearly 180-degree reversal with my artistic intentions. I have new things to say. Things with meaning. At least to myself.

So to answer the first question, what kind of person am I? I am constantly evolving and learning. I am stubborn but willing to compromise. I don't know what I want, but I know what I don't want. Everything is instinctive. I am incredibly and sometimes unreasonably sensitive. But I love and feel deeply. And I am ridiculously self centered, but I'm working on that...

Where I go from here is any one's guess.

******

I spent the last few days in Jerusalem. I drove there by myself, an idea which initially frightened me. As I approached Jerusalem on Highway 1's narrow and twisting roads, I was filled with a mix of giddy excitement and anxiety about the upcoming traffic situation. But no matter, I felt an immediate sense of gratitude for being able to just drive into Jerusalem. A city that people dream of visiting but never do. Or they do, but only once in their lifetime. And yet here I was, driving past the Sonol and Paz petrol stations that signify, at least to me, the entrance into Jerusalem.

I parked as soon as I could and headed to the Machane Yehuda market seeking out my friends. When I asked Sophie where she was, she replied "surrounded by fruits and vegetables and a cheese store." She may as well have added 'nuts' to her sentence, for fruits, vegetables, cheese, and nuts are practically the entire contents of this market. Luckily I found her along with Arianna and Alex within seconds. Nothing short of a miracle in the Machane Yehuda market...

I spent the rest of my day having a goodbye lunch with Arianna who was to return to the US the next day and with Brittain, my former kibbutz neighbor turned reluctant Yerushalmi.

The next day I took some time to wander around the Old City. No matter how many times I go there, I always find something new. I took Sophie and Delphine to the roof of the Austrian Hospice, overlooking the roofs and narrow alleyways of the Old City and boasting a splendid view of the Dome of the Rock at a close distance. Its in moments like these where I can feel the weight and magnitude of everything, the world, and both the triviality and enormity of my own existence.

******

Now I'm feeling only the heaviness of weight on me that I cannot place. I know that everything will be okay.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Yom Ha Zikaron

This is not about the Holocaust.

This is not about how I feel about the Holocaust.

**

Last night marked the eve of Yom Ha Zikaron, a somber memorial to those who died in the Holocaust. To commemorate the event, my kibbutz held a gathering of kibbutzniks young and old, some even survivors themselves. An elderly survivor played the violin. A young woman held her survivor grandmother's hand as she told her story. A photo slide show was shown. Candles were lit. I danced with my classmates to pay tribute. In the end, everyone stood to sing in Hebrew. I did not know the words. I stood silently and listened to this room full of people singing and was touched by the sight of my friends' tears and emotion.

Today at 11am during ballet class, we stopped as a horn blared for a full 2 minutes where we stood still in silence. Some classmates left the room to stand outside. Those inside looked down reflectively and respectfully. Some were overcome with emotion. How can one not be?

The horn stopped and we slowly ebbed back into the flow of class. Back into the flow of life.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Floating in a Dream-like State

I don't even know what this is.

I'm just going.

It is amazing how the heart can change. So quickly, so simply, so inexplicably. At a mere 23 years old, I can hardly claim wisdom but I do know that I've learned a lot in the past 2 years, perhaps more new information in the last 2 years than in the previous 20. I have no idea as to why this is. It seems as if I have been living through most of my life in a dreamlike state. As if I were just floating through the day to day.

All my memories of those times are a blur. Life didn't seem to become clear until sometime after turning 21. I know I moved to London. The beginnings were strange. At some point things became clearer and I began to understand myself a little better, but remained mostly uncertain.

Upon turning 22, things became blurry again. I don't even remember much of my last few months in London. I only remember how I felt, but not so much what happened or with whom.

I returned to Los Angeles feeling utterly annihilated. I remember eating a lot, watching TV, reading, and eating some more. Nothing spectacular.

I moved to Israel and turned 23. And now everything is so bitterly clear to me. And by bitter, I mean harsh, uncensored, and painfully obvious.

Through discussions, novels, and self reflection, I've come to numerous revelations about myself, my situation, my immediate surroundings, and the world in which I live.

It's actually slightly unbearable.

I've learned that nothing is permanent. No one is permanent. Everything and everyone comes and goes. I've realized that I don't miss the things or people I thought I couldn't live without. It's as if it never mattered to me. I know that which I most desire at this point will only change in a matter of time and I will have completely changed my mind. I cannot remain the same for too long. Or perhaps I have remained the same all along...

No. I am not the same person I was 2 years ago, or even 2 months ago. Would I even recognize myself now?