that's all for now folks...

it's time for some serious editing and a face lift - until then

Just Add Some Hormones...

One of my jobs requires that I ask folks that smoke to move a certain distance from the buildings on campus. Having lived in the front room of a building with a lot of smokers before, I understand how frustrating it is to come back to a smoke filled room. As I left the building the other night I noticed an older gentlemen smoking by a window. I informed him politely that he needed to move away from the building. He ignored me. I repeated myself. He responded but mostly with garbled and disgruntled words. In the end, he moved to where I asked him to, giving me serious shit and asking "You happy? Did I not move fast enough for you? Go mind your own business." Granted this guy is my dad's age. But damn it, I'm pissed. He could have just said he knew and started sauntering towards the smoking area...won't have been that difficult. I'd even informed him that I worked in the building and was required to do such things. Anyway, I reply, "No, I'm not" and walk back into the building. I go to the desk and explain what happened to my coworkers, trying to figure out how to handle it all, and calm myself the freak down. It was a long day, I have a cold, and I'm on my way to my desk job. This guy was just the last straw. He comes in and gets in my face again, telling me he was old enough to be my father and how rude I was. I repeated over and over again that I asked him politely, and I stand firm on that fact. He walked off, and turned around and came back, saying he was sorry, he had a lot of shit going on. I was pissed off still and didn't care what the heck he had to say. He walked off again, and at this point my frustration just peaked...along with my monthly hormones apparently...and the tears began to well. I hate, hate, hate not being in control. Of course he turned around again, and saw me crying, came over and apologized again. I must have made him feel like shit and I hate that. I hate how it feels to lose control of your tear ducts as two co-workers, this guy, and another young guy at the desk I didn't know watch on, awkwardly standing there. Worst part was, I was fine, just couldn't control it or vent it elsewhere. I blame the hormones, or as my grandmother calls this time of the month, "the curse".

P.S. As I write this, I'm interrupted by having to deal with a group of girls entering the men's bathroom nearby...oh and there goes another one. This shit has got to stop.

Dream (February 8)

Dreaming about werewolf-vampire hybrids and Jacob from Twilight is usually not a good thing, right? Other than climbing on top of grocery store aisle shelves to avoid being scratched by a bunch of teen wolves, the rest of the dream was very real and actually, not too bad. I'm quite sure it's a result of watching old reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Netflix... I never got to watch it as a child, and thank goodness I didn't, it's entirely inappropriate for anyone under the age of say 16. Either way, in the dream a close friend or boyfriend or something of the sorts became a werewolf, but then towards the end was cured or something ridiculous of the sorts. I flew into his arms, happy that he was back, and happy to be in love. He had a pair of 6 foot wings now...(excuse me subconscious, but what the hell?) Anyway, I woke up happy having a pair of arms around me. But then reality kicked in and my thoughts went more like this: I've been single for too long...I gotta get myself a guy...No, you don't need one...Really, if it's meant to be it'll be...but romance and love and kissing are nice...oy

Joining the Military

I'm not poor, I'm not a lesbian, I'm not from a military family, and I'm not unsure what I want to do with my future. It's not that I can't go to college, because I'm in already and doing well. What's my motivation then? Why would I do such a thing? Unlike almost every other career choice, for a woman to say that she wants to join the military, correction, for a female college graduate to say that she wants to join...

I receive a lot of questioning, I'm quite sure it's more than if I were a guy. It doesn't satisfy to answer the way a typical young man would (and a women certainly can't say she like guns, war, the military, or the likes). The fact of the matter is, it's complicated why I want to join and simple at the same time. But mostly it's just difficult to put into words, especially under scrutiny.

The issue isn't being female though. The issue is finishing the schooling I need to become a psychologist. Clinical graduate school is harder to get into than medical school. And when do I join? If I want to be a military psychologist, why not get the experience before? Should I do the reserve or not? Army or Air Force? What do I go into within the military? How many years will I be in for? Will I get called for deployment, which is fine, but what if it screws up my degree? What am I doing? My family will freak to an extent, and my close friends will not understand. I want a family and kids. When does that factor in? Does it? Will I even find anyone? Should I base decisions on a future that might never happen? Why am I so confused? I want to join. I like having options. Joining doesn't mean I don't get those options. It just means I face a world, that once again, just doesn't understand me. So be it.

People Hating

Dirty dishes in the sink for over 48 hours is disgusting. Asking for at least the kitchen to be clean shouldn't be an issue. When I stick your dirty tupperware that was left all over the counter in your cupboard because you were gone for a whole weekend, I shouldn't feel guilty when you confront me. You left shit where it didn't belong. We made an agreement at the beginning of the year. Deal.

As for you, dear roommate who hasn't eaten in over 5 days, I don't think God 'told' you to do this. Yes, fasting can be good, but everything in moderation, dear! A week of not eating is really not healthy (though in all honesty it has yet to be scientifically proven either way). But still people do die from what you're doing.

I'm sick of all the tension. Arab and Jewish girls using tear gas on each other on the tram is not a normal thing, thank you very much. Zionists, please, your propaganda makes me sick sometimes. Orthodox Jewish men, do you know what it's like when the only empty seat on the bus is next to you and instead of taking it the old man stares at you (probably wishing that the buses still required women to sit in the back)? Arab in the old city, as nice as your offer is, I don't want you as my husband, I don't want your son, and I definitely don't want to be your second wife! Hebrew teacher, is it possible for you to not always be a total bitch? It's a bit much at 8AM. Security guards, do your job and actually check our id cards, bags, and us when we set off the metal detectors! As much as I like that I'm not harassed, the only "security" you're using is profiling, and it's disgusting and will probably backfire on you. Professor who refuses to answer my question, get a new job. UGH!

Comparisons & Disgust

It's completely natural to make comparisons and to be curious about your ex's new girl friend. Especially when, as far as you know, both of you both haven't dated anyone since each other (aside from my one month fiasco of a thing) and most especially when your relationship was one of those classic first love, thought you were going to marry, long distance, head over heels, year and half long, tumultuous relationships.

It's been two years since we broke up, and I'm now past 20 and he's a few days shy of 22. I had no idea what I'd be comparing myself to when I clicked on her Facebook profile. I suppose I was expecting some college friend he was close to. I never, ever, thought it'd be a little pretty blond chick who is a 17 year old high school senior! Now, my parents are several years apart, but um, dating a high school student when you're a fourth year in college is definitely a low of lows. Funny little tidbit though is that she's exactly the same age I was when I started dating him. I sense a theme maybe? She's also from back home, which means it's a long distance thing. Sounding slightly more familiar now? Obviously this whole thing leaves me both horrified that I ever dated him, and happy that I'm far better off now. Ew and double ew.

Hooking Up

I just don't get it. My roommate here is acting utterly distraught over a guy she hooked up with a few times, now is only friends with, and who made out with some other girl the other night. Why is she upset? I thought it was just a "hook up" to her. She's hooked up with at least 3 guys since then. Does she expect them all to never hook up again with anyone else? Does she expect him not to hook up with other people, even while hooking up with her?

It all blows my mind. The consequences range but I'd personally rather avoid all of the following: embarrassment, herpes, heart break, awkwardness, colds, viruses, illness, ruined friendships, pregnancy, sexually transmitted diseases, rumors, bad reputation, crabs, bad relationships, and of course don't forget, everyone's favorite...death. No I'm not being ridiculous. AIDs is a big deal people, despite medical advancements you can still get it, and it still isn't curable.

But honestly, do you really think you'll ever be happily married if all you did was constantly hook up with random people in your past? Why would you ever suddenly settle down? Would you even know how? How about if you tried to build a relationship based on a hook up? I really would like to see a study on that, because I doubt very many people have great solid love lives...

Rocket & Shelters

A few weeks ago I went with a friend to visit her family in the south of Israel. Turns out it wasn't the best timing on my part. Gaza flared up again and decided to send over some nice, little, sweet presents.

Although I cannot truthfully say that I wished to avoid such things while here...I mean if it's happening, I'd rather have the experience than live in a delusion...I can definitely say I wasn't expecting anything to happen. I was already in the delusion then I suppose.

Oddly enough hearing rockets hit the ground does not just leave you with a feeling of horror. Sitting on the floor in a back bedroom, a thick sheet of metal pulled across the window, blocking possible shrapnel and all light, you expect to feel only horror. All you can hear in the dark room is arguing and worrying in a foreign tongue, the siren wailing through the suddenly dead city. You wait, working all the while to control the anxiety and fear. You wait. And when you hear the rumble of the hit, it leaves you with a mix of surprise and relief, as well as horror. The surprise is simple. The surprise is that there really was a rocket, and it really did hit. It wasn't a drill, or a false alarm. The relief is that you are conscious, alive, and far enough away that you were able to hear it hit. And then after, different from the anxiety and fear that came when you first heard the alarm, the wisps of horror dance about you, in your heart and mind, body and soul...they get all mixed up with your small warmth of relief. It's a strange feeling for sure.

It's been a while and I'm not in the south anymore, but when I hear the wind pick up and sometimes when the windows begin to make a whistling sound, everything in me stops for a milisecond, waiting for the sound to turn into the ghostly siren call that echoes and wails through cities in the south warning of the coming rockets. It sounds just like the wind at first. For awhile after I returned home to the North of Israel, every time I heard this sound here, after everything stopped for a fraction of a second, I would register the sound and breathe a sigh of relief to myself. I tell myself, I'm nowhere near the land where rockets fall infrequently like angry meteors from the sky. In reality, I am safe, but also only an hour's drive away.

Welcome to Israel

The people here are full of contradictions. They're welcoming but rude. They're impatient but slow themselves. They treat you like family, in both the good and the bad ways. They never say "excuse me", but they'll help you above and beyond when you ask. They rarely form actual lines, and cutting is somewhat normal. A machine gun strapped to a chest with or without a uniform is not an unusual sight. Kippas are normal and I can spot a wig a mile away now. Tensions are high between the different cultures here at points. Things aren't blowing up, war isn't breaking out, things are fine here, life is as usual for the locals. Their mentality is "what happens happens" and I'm trying to learn to incorporate this thinking more into my life.

My bouts of depression don't seem worse, but being away from everything that I use to call normal, well it feels as if I'm starting from square one all over again. My mind races with all I have to do, want to do, and should do while here. I'm not terribly pleased with my courses or peers. I'm not so happy about how much money I have to spend on just food alone each week. I don't want all the pressures, but I have so much trouble leaving them behind just for a few moments. I miss friends that understood me well, and that I understood well.

I miss having an identity. I feel like I don't have one here at points. Most people are very welcoming and don't care if you're Jewish or not. But when you're not part of the majority there are a myriad of things you simply don't understand, didn't grow up with, and don't know about. You miss that cultural connection you had with people that share some bit of your history. I love it here, and I enjoy the differences. But sometimes I wish it didn't matter that I don't come from the same background exactly. I wish it was just ignored. But it isn't always.

Exhausted in Paris

I know why the French are so tiny. They get their workout daily just by walking. I'm absolutely exhausted after only a week here. Taking the metro during the morning rush is tiring, cramped, and sweaty. But at the same time there is something nice about it. I think I just like being so near to other people. I miss being close to others, especially the kind that is present with really good friends, family, or a significant other. I don't have any of those here. I wish I had someone here. What I would give for a person to curl up next too when feeling blue or tired.

I'm both sick of and in love with this city. After only a week. I suppose it's because I'm trying to cram so much in while I'm here. Love, such a powerful thing, and such a struggle for me some days. I hate and love my depression, I think most people that have it would understand the meaning of this statement. Sometimes it just sucks the good out of everything, to the point that you can completely forget there is such a thing as "good". Yet, it's just as possible, that five seconds after a bout of this, you to notice something. Perhaps something little, perhaps something overlooked. That little thing, no matter how small, can bring the greatest joy, hope, faith, and love flooding back. It's such a strange thing, and I wonder if it's not the depression but just me.

The people here on the program with me are overall nice. But I really detest some of them. Well not them, but the persona they give off. I feel like I'm back in high school when most of us are 20 and 21. A few of the guys are total "bros" and thus picture well dressed frat boys who can put on a reasonable front but just want to shoot the breeze and work at their father's law firm. A few of the girls are too into having the most expensive and popular clothes. I couldn't careless if you've got a $300 purse; if it's ugly and not useful there's no point. Paris is pretty fashionable so I can accept some of this, I myself have been dressing up more than I normally do. Sigh, still more a fraternity/sorority crowd for the most part. Though a few us, nerdier ones I suppose, are getting along pretty well. Still, we all don't know each other very well and have different personalities...so at times the stress gets to me.