Blonde at Heart

In Slippers

2008-07-19T20:51:00.003+03:00

In the last post which was in another era, I said I was too happy and too busy to blog. Well, that ended now, and I hope I did not lose my miniscule readership for that short spell of happiness.
In the time that passed between the last post and now I learned a thing or two about the importance of designer dresses, and the type of men I want to date.

I think it is inappropriate to spill all the last guy's flaws in the open, because, he was really nice. Just not the right guy for me.

Otherwise, nothing much happened. The third semester ends in two weeks and then "exam break" starts. It looks like I will be working hard until Rosh Hashana.

I keep dreaming about packing my bags and go on a weekend mini-break to Paris, but I guess I'll never gather up the courage to actually do that.

The thing that really annoys me about the current breakup, is that it feels almost routine, to do the "breakup talk", eat half the tube of B&J ice cream, feel bad about it, eat salad for a week, cry a bit, listen to sad songs/angry rock songs, contamplate a shopping spree, get enough satisfaction from a window shopping or plain grocery shopping, go out with friends and maybe find "him", and start the whole dating ritual and then the breakup routine again.
I am sure this is despait talking from my throat and not long from now I will fall again for some guy I will think he is my knight in shiny armour, and I hope he really will be.

"Too Happy, Too Busy"

2008-05-19T21:39:00.002+03:00

Wow, I did not realise I did not log for nearly a month. Probably my two readers left me completely and I can write total nonesense and no one will ever know.

I was too busy to write, I missed my Blog's second anniversary! I'm a bad blog-owner.

Anyway, uni started again, and as opposed to what is usually regarded (especially in the States) as "Spring Break", mine was filled with tests and papers, which I still write. Uni started again and I love it. I have two new subjects, one I really like, Modern Muslim Philosophy, and another I hope I will grow to like.

I also have a new guy I date. So far he seems issue-free. But like Stalin, I think that those who seem the most issue-free are actaully those who possess the greatest personal problems. I hope I am wrong, I am rather fond of him.

I am considering to turn the blog into a weekly column about current affairs, as my life is totally boring. No one wants to hear about how happy you are. What do you think?

Busy Bee

2008-04-16T17:02:00.002+03:00

I am aware that the dear blog suffered lately. But I have excueses. Exam period started (and finished today) and I was studying hard. Apparently my studying was worth my while, since I was just informed I received 95 in my globalization of world politics class.

I also managed to lay a few ghosts, and acquire a new one. B, remember the boy I told you about? Well, he was not as issue-free as I told you. I hope for a better luck next time (not necessarily with him).

Pub Science

2008-03-27T19:58:00.002+02:00

A devoted reader of this blog suggested I cut down on the drama in my life - a sound advice. The problem is that drama is an essential part of life, especially in a restless place like Israel.

Measles
The HU was thrown into a petty panic attack this week because a student was diagnosed with measles, and all those who studied with him were sent to the doctor. It was rather funny - in Israel all children born after 1977 received injections for measles, but nevertheless, this week, every student with a common cold from the IR department was seen as the next measles case.

Between San'a and Damascus
The Arab world has seen this week to quite exciting developments. The first is the Yemenite Initiative for inter-Palestinian dialogue. I am sure both sides want to end the division between the WB and Gaza, but they want to finish it when their group has the upper hand. Therefore Hamas conducts separate meetings with Egypt regarding re-opening of the Rafah crossing and a possible "calming" with Israel. If Hamas is successful, it either will not need the Yemenite Initiative, and hence the demand to "discuss" the implementation of the Initiative, a way to buy time and gain bargaining chips in the dialogue with Fatah. In this state of affairs, it is very clear why Fatah demands immediate impelmentation of the Initiative and/or conditions its implementation on immediate withdrawal of Hamas from the Gaza strip.

Meanwhile in Damascus, the Arab Summit is not such a great success. The prolonged political vacuum in Lebanon led it to boycott the Summit. This boycott led Egypt and Saudi Arabia to send ministers instead their heads of states. This protest is directed against Syria which is seen as the source of the Lebanese vacuum - its opposition to Sleiman seems to prolong the strife between the two large groups in Lebanon (the coalition and the opposition) and bringing these groups to the verge of a civil war. Thus Lebanon tries to distance itself from the Arab world for a while, trying to compose itself and solve its own problems.

I must say the Amro Moussa, the secretary general of the Arab League, has a lovely smile.

The Cure
On Purim, which was sadly very sober, I met the Ex. Most would say this is a very bad policy, but it proved that this whimsical behaviour was exactly the thing I needed - he tried to kiss me and I said no.

A Bucket of Self-Pity

2008-02-29T01:22:00.002+02:00

The greatest disadvantage of friends in drama school is that they see into you and realise things before you do. My friend Shai over the last couple of months identified all kinds of trends and things I am going through, even before I realised that. Tonight he asked me where all my energy is going. When I said I do not know, he suggested it all goes to self pity. He is so right, but, like the song (sort of), if it feels so right, why does it feel so wrong?

The Letting Go

2008-02-28T00:24:00.002+02:00

I have identified my problem, but this does not mean I am any way closer to solving it. My problem is that I cannot let go. Or, better phrased, I do not want to let go. "There are more fish in the sea" "bigger and better busses" and all that s**t does not console me and/or give me hope. Instead I prefer to close myself in my little bubble, listen to the CD I gave him a few years ago and develop a nervous tick in my left eye because life is not a movie - you do not have a good wallowing period (not that I ever allowed myself), go out with your friends, bat your eyelashes twice in the direction of the nearest cutest guy and voila! you've got yourself a rebound. Maybe life as a spinster is not so bad. I'd be able to write a book or two instead of the children I may have had, have two or three dogs and eat cereal for dinner.

Linner

2008-02-24T21:34:00.002+02:00

Linner, is a really late lunch or a very early dinner. And I think I am much more Sex and the City neurosis rather than Gilmore Girls cheer. The point? Don't know. I am restless. I want to do a gazillion things and I want to bury myself under the duvet at the same time. The Mythological Ex's and mine six years anniversary crops up and though I am sure he does not remember it, I do, and I do not know what to do with myself. Also, he is supposed to be released from his military service around that time. Gosh, why does it have to be so complicated?

חיים משבת לשבת

2008-02-22T17:04:00.002+02:00

Thinking is bad for you. At least, thinking is bad for me. All week long I am busy doing stuff - exams, lectures, papers, shifts in the office, hanging out with friends, but come Friday suddenly all that stops and I finally have time to think. Actually, it's not really thinking, but more a feeling, which I suspect I am not familiar with, but as I become more acquainted with it, the less I like it. Lonliness is like someone you do not like, but decides is your friend, who constantly calls you and you simply cannot shake off, because you are out of excuses. I try to tell myself there is no chance that what I feel is lonliness, because I have my family and my friends, so why do I crave more than that?

Loving the Place You're in

2008-02-16T21:13:00.002+02:00

Some time ago, I received what seemed to be a sound piece of advice from someone who's seen and went through a lot of stuff. The advice was "wine and chocolate". Another person's advice was "tons of ice cream". Somehow when I apply these advices I always end up in tears (and no, not because of the far-fetched belief that these make you fat).
Modern times are all about compartmentalising, so to keep up with the times, I compartmentalise. Work is fine, uni is fine, my paper(s) progress fine, my family is wonderful, my friends are great, but there is something missing. And no, it is not him, it is the idea of him, which is far more dangerous in my opinion.
So many times I heard the "he's not worth it" cliche, I no longer believe it. Who really is "worth it"? While we were together I heard that he is a perfect match for me. But now that we are not together, suddenly he's not "worth it"? It is hard to live in the modern age, where you're supposed to be tall, beautiful, thin, successful both at work, the academia and the kitchen and find the perfect guy for you. This is so frustrating, my nails are chipped and I do not have the desire to take care of them. Is it a bad sign, that I do not want to do my nails? Is the state of your nails symbolic to your emotional state?
While all this rambling may be seen as driven either by alcohol or hormones, I can assure it is neither, which leaves me with the ugly truth that I am fine and not fine at the same time, and I wish that there was something I could do about it.

Sky Is Over

2008-02-14T19:51:00.002+02:00

The Lebanese should be lauded, especially today, for showing true politcal interest. Hundreds if not thousands of Lebanese stood today for hours in the pouring rain to pay their respects to a public figure they appreciate. True, Imad Mughniyeh cannot really be called "a public figure", as it took more than 20 years to track him down, but his organisation is very public.
After this show of political solidarity, what can be deduced from that, or, how close is Lebanon to have a new President?
The short answer is, I don't know. My best guess is that Lebanon is headed to a stalemate - the Arab League still did not give up on its solution to the Lebanese presidential vacuum, but I guess that after the summit in Damascus, and the natural course of events in the region, even the League will give up. The French already gave up. Then, when the Lebanese will realise that they are alone in this, they will find themselves in need of something that is in short supply in world politcs lately: courage. The Lebanese will have to decide that either they will take themselves seriously and solve the vacuum, or violence will break out, i.e., a solution to the vacuum in other means.

The Palestinians already find themselves in this crossroad: either Hamas renounces its "coup" in Gaza and the PA agrees to a national unity government and/or early elections or that violence will have to decide. In addition, the rumors on a possible Israeli large operation in the Strip add to the pressure. The PA do not want to come back to Gaza on Israeli tanks, and Hamas do not want to turn to Egypt in order to save it from Israel (because most chances are that Egypt will not do that).

Bleeding Out Love

2008-02-10T13:16:00.000+02:00

You'd probably bang your head against the wall when you read this. Last night, as if I was possessed, I called Yoni and met him for tea. Then we porceeded to more serious talk that ended in a long goodbye kiss (this is really goodbye, I guess). Now I feel like a fool, and worse than that - I have a nosebleed (a sure sign of stress) and a cut that keeps on bleeding. I feel like a murder scene.

Life as an Eternal Slumber Party

2008-02-02T23:04:00.000+02:00

Hooked

This is so not a blog material, but I found interesting. Last week at work, I felt I could not start my day without pouring some caffeine down my veins. So I went to look for some. It was not in the kitchen. It was not in the fancy kitchen upstairs. It was in the kitchen in the lower floor, and only after I had to bring my own cup. So yeah, I'm hooked.

Little Emo Kid

Like many things I do not have, like the ability to translate misery into words, I wish I had the ability not to pretend. Not that I am such a good actress, but I want not to pretend. As if I had a sign on my back saying "girl in emotional instability, stay clear if you want to stay alive". I cannot wear all black and do the whole black eye shadow, black eye liner thing. I am way too prim for that. I wish I wasn't.

Not My Knight in the Shiny Armour

In all this mess I found a few spare minutes to tell the Red Knight that it's not going to work out, as we seek very different thing. Pity. He was a good cook. Speaking of cooking, I managed to cook today salmon in rosmary which came out marvellously.

From an E-Mail to a Friend, or: My Winograd Report

2008-01-31T17:34:00.000+02:00

Hello,

As promised, I give you my views regarding the Winograd report. An appeal to the supreme court in 2007 made sure that the finger will not be pointed at any specific person, and thus make the report less strong than the interim report in April. At the same time, the report is a strong criticism on Israel's administration and its national character.

If you remember, the interim report in April said that Olmert is not fit to run a country, especially not a country in war. The report yesterday said nothing of this kind. Instead, it gave the people of Israel and especially its administration a lesson in basic political science. Justice Winograd basically said that military power should be used in order to achieve political goals, pretty much what Clausowich said a hundred years or so ago, that war is "continuing policy by other means". The report said that the political branch did not know how to use the military force it had in its disposal - aversion of a vast ground operation in the early stages of the war in addition to problematic communication between the army and the head of the state.

Moreover, in the six years since the pull-out from southern Lebanon, the army became more concerned about casualties rather than achieving its goals. Meaning, the constant fighting in the Territories made the IDF an expert in counter-terrorism, but it forgot how to act like an army, with big operations including artillery, tanks, infantry and air force.

Many like to compare the Winograd report to the Agrant report after the 1973 war, where also the military was blamed the most. But in my opinion, the finger is pointed, even if it is wrapped in very general terms, to the Prime Minister. The army has, since the war, gone under wide reforms in order to make it an army again. Also, the then-chief of staff already stepped down.
Although the report glosses over the operation in the last 60 hours of the war, I think it proves, above all the other scandals, the inability of the Prime Minister to run a country in war - the Security Council has already started voting about resolution 1701, and it was the same resolution that was accepted after this ineffective operation, which did not change the resolution and led to the death of 33 soldiers. The report says clearly that in the only war that Israel ever started, it lost. It lost because the army was not ready and because the political branch did not know what to do.

A colleague of mine said that the difference of a PM who has a military experience and one who does not, is that a military-experienced PM does not put casualties as his first concern. I quite agree.

To sum it all, the Winograd report, more than being a report about the scandals of the war, is a portray of the society in Israel, and it is not a pretty picture - a society that does not think about the greater good and ignores the environment in which it lives. A society in which the desire to serve your country by combat service in regarded lunacy. A society that joins those who try undermine the basis upon which it stands - a society that sees the term "Zionist" as a swearword rather than the essence of its being.

Hope you are well,
Blonde

"If It Makes You Happy..."

2008-01-30T09:46:00.000+02:00

I am sick of this bog of self pity I find mysef in lately, but cannot find a way out of it. Friends telling me it takes time, chocolate and wine (or vodka, depends who you ask) do not seem to help much.Unlike Bren and BiB, I cannot channel my angst and gloom into creative writing, so the blog is going through a dry spell. Sorry.

On a happier note, it snows outside, and the world is a magical winter kingdom. Wish I had a camera.

Britney Is a Genuis!

2008-01-26T19:53:00.000+02:00

Girl meets a boy, boy finds girl on Facebook, boy and girl talk quite some time online, boy and girl meet for drinks, boy comes over (twice!) for the weekend at girl's place. Sounds perfect, isn't it?
In between this perfetion, girl has a bad breakup, and is still quite hung up on former boy. The girl is, quite naturally, me, and I feel much like Britney's song "Oops!". I play the game. The Red Knight is lovely and all (he made me pancackes! and brought me tea to bed). Also the feeling that he is like every past relationship I ever had was magnified by the fact that I almost called him "Dror" at some point, which is really weird, as I have not thought about Dror in a million years.
Indeed, the Red Knight is tick, tick, tick (looks, brains, possibility of likeability by les parents), but there is nothing there, no breathless waiting for him to call or come over, it feels too easy, and it bothers me. Is it the behavioural patterns Irit talked about, that I really have to let go and remind myself that love should not be difficult, or should I end this because it is bad to have a relationship that reminds you of every past boyfriend?

Blankey

2008-01-24T18:54:00.000+02:00

I seem to have the habit of contacting all the wrong people when I feel down. Much like that Jew in the midrash who had a treasure in his basement but he went looking for it over the mountains, so I seem to go to unnecesarily lengths in order to solve my problems.
Yesterday and the day before that were kind of a watershed. I discovered (again!) that working and studying is very hard. It seems as though you cannot eat your cake and have it - either you fully enjoy your studies or your job - you cannot enjoy both, as it will bring you down - literally. This low point made me feel so miserable, and the only person I thought that could help was Yoni. I rang him, but he did not answer. Then he called me back, which I see as his own decision (thus, I have nothing to do with it), and indeed talking to him cheered me up greatly, but it is much like all short-living pleasures (red wine, chocolate and Jeff Dunham's shows), has no additional value that can keep your head over the water for another day. I felt so down that I broke a promise I made to a close friend. It seems like I am falling into patterns again. I do not deal with the probelm, I take out all the rage on me.

Speaking of patterns, it seems like the Red Knight falls into the type of guys I have relationships with: geek, both parents in the same profession and he has bad relationship with at least one of the parents. I do not know what to do about it. Should I accept the fact that the relationship with Red Knight looks like a compilation CD titled "the very best of every past relationship you ever had", or should I stop seeing him, as I know how these relationships usually end?

Back to School, Again

2008-01-20T13:56:00.000+02:00

The lecturers' strike is finally over, and now I will really start studying. It is going to be hectic and weird, but at least I will be studying!

It also means I will start doing my job as the dorm-team party planner, and get my free beer card to the students' pub. Yay!

I keep thinking about reasons not to be with the Red Knight, even though nothing is decided officially yet. My spiritual friend Irit says I do it because of the behavioural patterns the Mythological Ex intilled in me. I hope I will not blow away a good and healthy relationship just because of my twisted perception of true love.

A Whole New World

2008-01-19T18:11:00.000+02:00

The Red Knight spent the weekend at my place, and since a picture is worth a thousand words, the whole experience felt like this:

If it really was so magical, why am I so miserable right now?

Empty Tank

2008-01-15T21:44:00.000+02:00

I have nothing. Really. Absolutely nothing. I tried to come up with a post last night, but all I could come up with were small anecdotes that are not interesting, once you typed them.

Israel gunned down today some militants, among them Mahmoud A-Zahhar's son. This guy really is unlucky with Israeli strikes. This is the second son he lost in Israeli attacks. Later today a car bombed killed a couple of people in Beirut, so I was kept busy. It is awful that I needed more people to die so I will not call Yoni, as I am sure he had something to do with the things in Gaza. I really want to hear first-hand all about the things in Gaza, but I guess this will never happen.

The Red Knight slowly but surely gains fans among my friends, which is cool. He is quite irresistible.

Ambushed

2008-01-11T11:20:00.000+02:00

In a few hours it will be over, that Bush-fever, that swept over the entire country, and especially over this city. It is almost unbelievable how much havoc was caused because of this man. My sister studied for only a few hours each day, because the school had to be evacuated by the time His Excellency went by. Do students in Washington DC also have to evacuate the school whenever the president goes to a meeting at the Congress or something?
The only good thing, actually, two good things about this visit, were that 1. Jerusalem was thoroughly cleaned in preparation to the visit. I wonder how long it will last. 2. Bush wanted to see the sunrise over the old city's walls, but yesterday's morning was very foggy, as foggy as Jerusalem can be. Ha!

The Wanderer

2008-01-05T20:30:00.000+02:00

On Thursday I was a fabulous friend, and took a train all the way up to Haifa for a friend's birthday party. Before that, I met the Red Knight for a drink. The initial plan was coffee and cake, but as he did not feel like it, so he suggested we go to his favourite pub. I was after a very long train ride, and a beer was just the thing for me. I've got to tell you, that pub is the most darling place I've ever seen. It is small, and has its quirky rules, like no more than six people per table. And it serves cool English beers. It reminded me of the Blue Hole, only the Hole allows its clients to have a lot of friends. I had a great time with the Knight. Even though he does not read and a self-proclaimed atheist, we talked for hours - I was late for Shira's party. He drove me to Shira's party, and when it was time to say goodbye, he picked me up and kissed me on the cheek. I felt like that girl from King Kong.

Shira's party was in a lovely little cafe. I wish there was a place like that in Jerusalem. The Coffee Mill is close, but not quite it. When we walked back to Shira's flat (her neighbours have a horse in their backyard!), I had a revelation - Tivon is like Stars Hollow. Shira agrees, so it must be true.

When it was time to start the journey back to Jerusalem, something went horribly wrong with the plan - I could not find the bus back to Jerusalem. Instead, in a very brilliant move, I decided to take the bus to Haifa, because I am a big-city gal and can find my way back more easily from a densely populated area than in a deserted road near a lovely and green God-forsaken town. My plan worked out smoothly, and I slept most of the ride, listening to U2 while the rain drew diagonal lines on the window.

The Wonderer

The past two days raised the question: do I want to see the Red Knight again? Shira was really impressed, as he asked her if every thing is fine, since she had a strained look on her face. This is really remarkable, and probably overshadows his lack of faith and reading habits.

Bookworm

2008-01-02T15:54:00.000+02:00

Last night I had a very interesting chat with the Red Knight. Apparently he does not read. At all. He studies computer science, so he does not have articles to read for his studies. I must say that his statement about not reading nearly knocked me to the floor. All the people I know read, to some extent. Peter, for example, flew to Yemen, and took with him tons of heavy books, causing his suitcases to be overweight. Two of my friends hope to publish a book some day. It is almost inconceivable for me. After he told me that, I picked up the book I currently read and felt very special and almost as if reading is a protest.

Victim of the Circumstances

2007-12-27T22:46:00.001+02:00

Badulinic philosophy is a pile of tosh and today I got my proof. As was shown in previous posts, the whole point of this philosophy is not to be a victim of circumstances. It is rather OK if you are a guy and not a subject to hormonal changes that are not controlled by you. One always has the choice if to be a victim of the circumstances, but one cannot help being a victim of the circumstances when the PMS waves drive her to want to chop people's heads off if they do as much as walk too slow. So. Badullinic philosophy is chauvinist. QED. Now I can sleep peacefully.

Providence

God loves me, and today I got my proof.
Also, I discovered that my favourite religious rock singer actually lives in Jerusalem! Ever since AB introduced me to Jess Cantelon I listened to "Secret Place" countless times, especially when I had an exceptionally good day and did not know how to thank God for that (casually ignoring the line about Jesus dying upon the cross).

Double Meaning, Double Standards

2007-12-25T15:04:00.000+02:00

Last night, after Mass, I sat with my two flat mates in Babbette, which is the coolest place on Earth. If you have not visited it yet, and you live in Israel, or better yet, Jerusalem, go there now. Later it will be packed. If you do not live in Israel, next time you are here, go. It is that good. A friend of mine said that the waffles, which is all that Babbette serves, are (quote) "culinary orgasm". Anyway, we ate waffles and talked about this and that. At some point we discussed how we call the flat. It is rather funny, but I call it "home", which is rather confusing to my parents when I go home (i.e., my parents' house) and say that I want to go home soon. It is purely semantics, but how will I call my parents' house when they will move (if ever)? Would they expect me to call it "home" as well?

In the Foot Steps of Christ

2007-12-25T13:18:00.000+02:00

There is something about Christmas, that makes everyone giddy with excitement. Well, at least those who mark that day. Maybe it is the feeling of being part of something bigger; the knowledge that everywhere around the world, people gather in a certain place, say (approximately) the same text and mark the same event. Jewish holidays have the same basis, but as one comedian summarized them ("they tried to kill us, they couldn't, let's eat"), they essentially mark a traumatic experience. Christmas, on the other hand, marks a rather cheerful and simple event - a birthday, and I think this is the core of its attraction.

Yesterday in Mass I was compelled to act as both translator and interpreter. I do not think I am such an expert on Christian matters, but somehow I managed to chant along with everyone the text (they said it in Arabic, I muttered it in English) and join some of the songs.

The interesting thing about Christmas is that no matter where you were last night, the attention of the whole Christian world was focused on one tiny city - Bethlehem. I feel really privileged that when the Bible says that Abraham went to Sedom, I know where it is, or when the New Testament says that Jesus walked on water, I actually was there.

"Because You're Worth It"

2007-12-24T09:48:00.000+02:00

After the fuss of the weekend, going to work seemed like a really hard thing, but it proved relatively easy to get up, get dressed and go. The songs on the radio were far too cheery for me, so I ensconed myself in my little bubble and listened to melancholy songs on youtube. After work I went grocery-shopping with Rotem, and then Christmas shopping - now I do not have to borrow my sister's Christmas cap, as I have my own, and also a little green bell is hung over my door.

Discussing my faith issues again opened all the pits and holes I thought I could not fall into again, and celebrating Christmas (properly, this year, i.e., with someone) is rather confusing. Because NOT celebrating it would seem weird, and celebrating it is weird enough as it is, given the circumstances. But quirky as it is, I am comfortable in this quirkiness and my wacko-Judaism.

One of my friends and also my mum advised me not to date for a while, after I broke up with the Canadian (the first time, back in July). Someone I met in Ilya's party is pursuing me (is this the right verb?) and I do not know if to accept his efforts. Today the pursuing guy (let's nick-name him the Red Knight) asked me out to a New Year's party. After all, only a month ago I broke up with someone. But when I thought about it harder, I discovered I did not really dated Yoni. We just "hovered" around each other, and then decided that it would not work out. Now a dating possibility looms on the horizon (complicated and impossible relationship, as always, if it will work out), and I do not know if to go for it or not. Then a little voice in my head said "hey, getting over someone is not a matter of time, but only the amount of time that passes between the end of one affair and the beginning of the other". The voice continued: "you do not have to be miserable. You were miserable enough. You deserve someone nice, smart and sensitive". The Red Knight seems all that. I think I will accept his invitation.

Oh, like every year, I plan to attend Midnight Mass tonight, but only this year I managed to sweep with me my two flat mates, which is really cool. Christmas is gaining more fans.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

A New Perspective

2007-12-23T13:22:00.000+02:00

"I've lost my wife and children but I have many friends, and some of them are with me. "

The first time I heard Cohen's The Partisan I thought this is the most depressing line ever. Somehow, the repeated listenings to Cohen over the past two or three days softened the blow the line used to give me and now I think this line is vaguely optimistic, as twisted as it may sound.

Ship-wrecked

2007-12-21T21:13:00.000+02:00

[Written over the past two days]

What have I become/ My sweetest friend/ Everyone I know goes away/ In the end

I wish I had the talent Bren and BiB have to describe gloom and melancholy in an interesting way. I only feel like a whiny little girl who cannot handle a spot of trouble. Nevertheless, I think the line above describes how I feel right now. In the past month or so I said goodbye to so many people I love.

I wear this crown of thorns/ Upon my liar's chair/ Full of broken thoughts/ I cannot repair

The thing with people you did not see in a very long time is that you do not to worry them with bits about your life that may give the impression you are not having the time of your life right now. So I lied to a dear friend of mine last night, and I feel awful about it.

I hurt myself today/ To see if I still feel/ I focus on the pain/ The only thing that's real

After a while the melancholy stops hurting and becomes a part of you. The whole repeated listenings to sad songs become a ritual more than a way to vent feelings, and I am ashamed of myself that ways of hurting myself passed through my mind just to see if I can still feel something.

The Loop

I do not know now if this prolonged melancholy persists because I want to or because I cannot shake it off. Last night creepy thoughts attacked me again and I started banging myself against the wall crying 'help!' 'someone!' 'anyone!', in a moment of brilliance, inspired by Irit, I called my brother who came as fast as he could to take me home. When I crashed on my bed (actually, the spare bed), I wanted to be back in the dorms.

Home Sweet Home

My parents have announced to me that they think about buying another flat, closer to my grandparents. This means that "going to my parents" will turn into going to somewhere strange, and that "my room" will be just a title, not the place in which I spent most of my younger years, no more a place that holds within its walls the memories of my growing up. Actually, I never had a room for myself until I moved to the dorms, but the room I shared with my sister holds so many memories, I cannot imagine not seeing it again, if indeed my parents will decide to move.

Farewell and Thank You for the Fish

2007-12-21T00:32:00.000+02:00

This is probably the most honest thing I will ever write. I met a friend tonight and did a little "catch-up". Overall, my life is exactly as I described, only I intentionally or otherwise diminished the effect the breakup with Yoni has on me. I guess I was too happy to see my friend.

I am so miserable right now it actually hurts. The flat is empty and I feel I'm slightly losing it. So if you read it now (0036, 21/12/2007), please call me. I asked my friend to sleep over because of this, but it didn't work out. It is so terribly late and I do not have the guts to wake people up. I guess Buckley on the speakers does not help either. Oh, God, please stop this.

פסטיבל שירי דיכאון

2007-12-20T17:45:00.000+02:00

A news website did a tribute to the Winter and asked its reporters to nominate their number one melancholy song of all times. One of them nominated "Not Dark Yet" by Bob Dylan. From the very first note it felt as if someone stabbed a knife in my heart and started turning it.

The Proper Thing

2007-12-18T01:49:00.001+02:00

I should not write this. I should be in bed.

Listening to Jeff Buckley's Grace would give you the feeling I have lately. The Canadian used to term it "sweet melancholy". I am stuck. I am supposed to write about this "sweet melancholy", but I find it really hard. It is so complicated, tying down emotions and transforming them into words.
Peter is in Yemen, and although we are (were?) as close as can be, given the distance, I miss him. I hope in vain he will send me an e-mail, although it is quite impossible, given that he has no permanent or even a semi-permanent Internet connection there.
Yoni is still deployed in Gaza, as far as I know, and the increasing talk about a big operation there scares me. Like during the war, maybe I do not want to talk to him, but I do not want him dead or wounded. And I miss him too, a lot. Only time can cure this, I know, but can't you make it go a little faster?

On a happier note, Bren is in town. He seems happy, and that makes me happy.

PS: a more serious piece is brewing. I am sick of these uncertain emotions.

Feel-Good Kinda Thing

2007-12-15T19:32:00.000+02:00

Amazing what a little phone call (or two) can do. I had a small glitch with my parents today and felt really bad about it. I knew I was feeling like a victim of the circumstances, but did not know how to change it. This is the core of Badulinic philosophy, so I called the only person I know who is well-versed in it - Eshel. He explained to me the basic principal which means that probably my parents do not think about the tiny row we had, so worrying is useless, so I'd better not worry.
Then I thought I'd be a fabulous friend and called Peter to wish him a safe journey on his way to Yemen. I caught him in a really good time - he did not have a boarding gate yet, so he was just sitting and waiting, completely unexpecting a call, especially from me. Now I have a silly grin on my face.

The Girl with the Flowers in her Hair, or: Better off Alone

2007-12-14T15:31:00.000+02:00

A quick glance over the list of bands I listen to most lately revealed a militant surge. The list consists of bands such as "War", "The Enemy", "The Killers" and others. I listen to "Everything but the Girl" now, by the way.
The militant play list I guess unconsciously reflects my current mood. I do not think I am angrier than usual, it's just a way of venting the underground currents of rage.

The more I think about it, I am more and more convinced I do not need a boyfriend now, as Anon said, I need to re-acquaint myself with me after what BiB described as a "bad run in affairs of the heart". I am sure they are right (because family and friends said the same), but I am not used to that, as arrogant as it may sound.

Happy Birthday Jane

2007-12-11T14:36:00.000+02:00

How to walk in high heels
Last week I bought a new pair of heels. Purple suede with a little flower on the side. I wore them to the office on Sunday and then went to pick up a few things from the mall. On the way back from the mall to the dorms I felt that if I will take one more step I will collapse and cry. Instead, I took off my shoes and went barefoot all the way back to the dorms (I wore them momentarily to get on the bus, and then took them off again). Today I am wearing my black heels, and as I had an hour to spend before my shift started, I went to the rose park on the other side of the road, and took off my heels, grass tickling my feet. I guess the best way to wear heels is held in your hands.

The gathering storm
Small and almost not newsworthy appear from time to time in the press. A few weeks ago an extremist group voiced its protest regarding the protests in Ramallah. Last week Al-Quds Al-Arabi said that Alqaeda recruits heavily in the Strip. Two weeks ago or so in a funeral in Gaza there were no Palestinian flags, just Islamic green and black ones. And Hamas did not decide if it will co-operate with Fatah against this gathering storm or not - this week Hamas said and then denied its intention to give back to Abbas' PA the control over the Security Services buildings in the Strip. Apocalyptic prediction are not my thing, but it puts me on my guard.

It's me, again

2007-12-08T22:39:00.000+02:00

I finally got it. Remember how when Yoni broke up with me a few weeks ago, I sat with Rotem in the Blue Hole and could not figure out what on Earth I find in him? The melancholy that leaped on me tonight revealed it. He is, despite his instability, a rock. One of the things you can be sure about in this world. Like you know that the sun will shine tomorrow, you know that he will be there for you. And now he is not here for me.

Patterns of Fairytales

2007-12-08T21:07:00.000+02:00

Once again I am falling to familiar patterns of conduct. Today the Canadian and I finally discussed our issues in a grown-up matter, and agreed it is for the best not to resume our relationship. This whole "closure" thing is rather sad. It is sad to close that chapter of my life called "me and the Canadian", even if it better for both of us.

I spent the entire day painting Christmas cards and avoiding work and in between watching episodes of Gilmore Girls. I feel slightly pathetic.

When I came home for Shabbat dinner my mom asked me casually if I would like her to set me an appointment with her facialist. Oh. My. God. My mom, who always said that I should not touch my eyebrows, because they are perfect, hints that my face needs a bit of a makeover. Doing your eyebrows means that the facialist will tamper with my skin with all kinds of chemicals and leave it red and blotchy for a week.

To phrase a complicated emotion short - I feel pathetic, lonely and melancholy tonight. And to top it all - all my friends are either out of town or busy. I feel like Bridget Jones.

Badulina

2007-12-07T01:39:00.000+02:00

Eshel, who recently came back from India, came back not bonkers, but very different. As he puts it - finally happy. He said he read this book, Badulina, while he was in India, and it changed his life. So I had to see what the fuss is all about. It is penny psychology alright, but it is very well written. It did not change my life, but it gives you a different perspective on things.
Time for bed (look at the time!).

Grassroots

2007-12-04T16:24:00.000+02:00

I finally caught up with time and connected to the Internet. Only it took me four hours to get it rather than the simple process I expected, which constituted of taking the modem from the Sales office and doing as told in the instructions. I did that, and it did not work. I called someone from the Dorf's technical support. It still did not work. I called Bezeq (the phone company). I spoke to a very nice guy about my problem and chatted with him about the weather while he tried to fix the problem. It still did not work. I called the Internet company and spoke to another nice technical support guy. I played spider solitaire while I waited for him to see what he can do about it. My connection was still faulty. I called the phone company again and played a bit more spider while I waited for the technical support to pick up the phone. And then, four hours after I took the modem from the office, I got my connection. All the time I waited I heard Meryl Streep's voice in my head, as her memorable character in "The Devil Wears Prada": "I do not understand why it is so hard to....". And then I skipped a tutorial in Political Economy, because I just could not do any more "serious" stuff. The second thought I had was "it would be very weird if the same guy will pick up the phone at the technical support". Luckily, both Bezeq and the Internet company have enough workers, so I was saved the embarrassment.

I had a rare opportunity to see how a local Jihad cell grows. Next to my parents lives a very religious guy. On Friday nights he can be seen collecting around him a bunch of youngsters and preaching something about Judaism, the importance of Shabbat and the like. I wonder what will happen if he will start preaching stoning girls who are dressed immodestly, people who drive on Shabbat and the like.

Habemus Pacem Aleichem

2007-11-29T17:50:00.000+02:00

Swept by the euphoria that surrounded the Annapolis meeting, at least at the beginning, and well aware of the complications in front of a treaty, I tried to come up with a scheme to make a treaty possible, in spite of the complications. Essentially, the scheme was to declare a Palestinian state in both the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, knowing that Abbas has no effective control over the Strip, hoping that the improvement in the overall situation of the Palestinians in the West Bank will drive the Palestinians in the Strip to oust the Hamas regime or to pressure Hamas to withdraw from its "coup" in Gaza. In addition, Hamas' refusal to the agreement will work as a "trust-building" step between the new Palestinian state and Israel, as they would have a common enemy, Hamas. Moreover, such scheme would "insure" Israel from international criticism if it would choose to retaliate to Palestinian attacks, because the moment the Palestinians will have a state, such attacks, that beforehand could be dismissed as "legitimate resistance", would now be called by their proper name - terror, and since the Palestinians would be constrained by the international law that prohibits such attacks, Israel's retaliation would be totally justified, international law-wise (as long as it is "proportional").

Reviews and criticism from well-wishing friends, as well as going to the office today, proved me that, well, my scheme is somewhere between "myopic" and "total bollocks". Two things convinced me totally: 1. Mahmoud Az-Zahar's statement two weeks or so ago that the moment the IDF will pull out of the West Bank, Hamas will take over it as well. As we all know (or not), Abbas' PA in the West Bank is still in place mostly thanks to the Israeli military presence there. 2. On Tuesday there were some violent clashes between the Palestinian police and the Palestinian factions that oppose the Annapolis meeting and the possibility of any Palestinian concessions in it. Today Hizb El-Tahrir (a very extremist Islamist group) published a condemnation of the violence the Palestinian police exerted when it broke the demonstration. This is a very bad sign. I am slightly worried. If a group like that is lurking around, it would be imprudent to pull out of the West Bank without knowing who will take over it.
It is painful to say it, but a Palestinian state right now seems like a Fata Morgana - really close, but actually not there.

What can be done? the only people who can do something are the Palestinians themselves, and it seems unlikely that in the foreseeable future something would dramatically change in the PA(s), as groups more militant and extremist than Hamas are lurking around.

On the other hand, a poll published today shows a drastic decline in Hamas' popularity. Only about 15% of the Palestinians would vote for it in the coming election. So maybe there is a little ray of hope.

Sort of, Kind of

2007-11-25T15:18:00.000+02:00

I was sort of promoted today. Instead of just translating, I can make predictions for the coming week! Hoorah! It does not mean more money, though. Never mind. I still get to tell people what I think about the stuff I read. Huzzah!

A Sense of Loss

2007-11-19T17:38:00.000+02:00

As someone said to me not long ago: "I read your blog so I had a feeling something is going on with Yoni". Well, that "thing" is no longer going on. As most readers of this blog know, my relationship with Yoni is a long row of highs and lows, coupledoms and friendships. I can honestly say he is the best friend I ever had. But a few weeks ago we arrived at the crossroad and realised we cannot really keep up the friendship, and it is either coupledom and eventual marriage or total disconnection.
I quite understand his decision not to face the hardship of a real relationship with me. Two mighty forces fight over his heart and I lost. It is awful to be on the losing side, but c'est la vie. I cannot escape what his decision truly is - cowardice - but I am hardly to blame him for that.

After he told me all his reasons (he shouldn't have, I had a feeling that this would be his answer and those would be his reasons), I walked to the Dorf and the first song that came on the iPod was "The Weeping Song" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Irony at its best. Then I started thinking about it all and wished I could delete him from my mind, like the procedure suggested in the genius film "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" (I hope I got it right). But do I really want to? I learnt some useful things from him (how to manipulate one's feelings, was Rotem's suggestion when I told her that) and despite the sad ending, I do not regret all those years I knew him. Was I given the chance, I would have done just the same.

When I got home I told Rotem all about it amid huge sobs, and wished Bren and Jen would be here. Which is not to say Rotem is not the best friend there is. But one does prefer people one knows more time for times of sorrow.

I am now in the phase of being comfortably numb, as Pink Floyd coined it. I do not want to cry anymore. At least not a lot. But I would prefer to bury myself under the duvet for a week or two. Therefore I arranged to work more this week, so I will have an excuse to get out of the house.

After sobbing to Rotem she dragged me to the Blue Hole (the lovely bartender made me his breakup drink of choice, which happened to be Long Island Iced Tea), and (this must be the booze) I started to realise that I do not understand what I find in him. He is not into politics, philosophy or studying. He is idealistic, but that's hardly compensating for lack of deep conversations.

Rotem also made me a "breakup album" which is a CD with all the Bon Jovi songs that she thought that would be appropriate for the occasion. Friends near and far sent their sympathy, so I really have nothing to complain, but complaining is all I seem to do.

I expect either a flood of posts or a draughty period in this here blog. If it is the latter, I apologise.

Seeing religious girls in headscarves in uni vexes me. I hoped to be one of them, but apparently that will never happen.

What I really want is a deeper meaning for this whole affair, so all this suffering will not be in vain, i.e., to come up with some philosophical insight (even if I cannot phrase it) inspired by this recent heartbreak.

Sugar Rush or: The Long Weekend

2007-11-11T13:24:00.000+02:00

Oh, wow! I do not think I had such a satisfying weekend in which I did not study for three whole days in a very very long time.

Quality Time
My parents are away and my sister is in charge of the house. I guess she felt a bit lonely, so she asked if I would like to come to a girlie night. Of course I said yes and after work went with her to the Third Ear to take a few kitschy films. We ended up with "Just Friends" (I thought it would suck, but it turned out to be just the thing for a girlie night), the first season of Gilmore Girls and for good measure, the first season of the West Wing. We ate so many cookies I thought I would burst.

Party Time!

The following morning I made my way stylishly on the train to Herzliya and proved that I have uncommon skill in urban navigation, having found Ilya's new flat without much problem. Later that night Ilya and his flat mate hosted a housewarming party which was really fun. Ilya did some statistics before the party and found out that there are more boys than girls invited, and indeed, at some point I found myself sitting among four or five admiring fans who offered me snacks and drinks (no thanks).

Facebooktheism

Since most of the guests are computer geeks, the new utility that enables computer geeks to have social life controlled almost every conversation. People apparently no longer switch phone numbers or even e-mail addresses. From now on it is "are you friends with Ilya on Facebook? I will find you there".

You know a party is a success when the cops come at three AM to break up the party.

On the Road

The way back was as comfortable as wearing military boots for a whole week, even at night. At some point Mati said he is nearly falling asleep, so we stopped for "an hour". In reality it was much longer. And I sat in the back seat with two rather large people. So I was cold, hungry, uncomfortable, tired, unable to sleep and not knowing where I am for almost 90 minutes. Then thankfully all woke up and I got back home.

Home Sweet Home

Back home I found out my brother and sister were both having a rather wild night. My brother just came back from a party and my sister just finished watching (again!) the first season of Gilmore Girls. I took a short nap and then cooked and watched films with my brother and sister.

B%&^$

An interesting thing happened on the way back to the dorms. Some bimbos stood near the bus stop. When I approached, their "leader", who looked about eight asked if I can lend her my cellphone. When I said "what?" (because I had my earphones on) she repeated the question in English (normal procedure). When I said "no" to her rude request she called me "liar". I rolled my eyes and put the headphones back on. Then she said "move over, b---h". "Do you own the bus stop?" I retorted. "Yeah," she said "my father buyed it". "Learn how to spell, b---h" I shot back without thought (had I thought about it I would not have used the word "b---h").

Then I got back to the flat and ate knafe and drank lovely English beer and watched "Brainiac" with Rotem.

I am so sugar-rushed it is unbelievable.

Not Again!

2007-11-09T02:45:00.000+02:00

I miss four of my friends at the same time and on very different levels. Although I can call one of them and e-mail the rest, it's just not "it". I do not want to call Shai. I do not want to e-mail Bren or Jen or Peter. I want to see them face to face. Maybe it is just the very confusing time I am going through, maybe it is just the old human trait that you always want what you cannot have. It is late. I am going to bed.

PS: I wonder whence BiB disappeared. I miss him too.

You Took the Words Out of My Mouth

2007-11-04T14:07:00.001+02:00

For quite some time the whole concept of modern society and modern values bothered me. Is there really isn't something beyond school-uni-work-marriage-retirement? Or, if you want to go philosophical, what is the purpose of life? I guess this is the uber-goal of my Quest, as I see the purpose of like worshipping God, i.e., doing some good in this world. A friend sent me today the article below, and further confirmed to me what I am NOT.

Twenty years ago today
By Mark Steyn
We are all rockers now. National Review publishes its own chart of the Fifty Greatest Conservative Rock Songs, notwithstanding that most of the honorees are horrified to find themselves on such a hit parade. The National Review countdown of the All-Time Hot 100 Conservative Gangsta Rap Tracks can't be far away. Even right-wingers want to get with the beat and no-one wants to look like the wallflower who can't get a chick to dance with him. To argue against rock and roll is now as quaintly irrelevant as arguing for the divine right of kings. It was twen- ty years ago today, sang the Beatles forty years ago today, that Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play. Well, it was twenty years ago today—1987—that Professor Bloom taught us the band had nothing to say.
I don't really like the expression "popular culture." It's just "culture" now: there is no other. "High culture" is high mainly in the sense we keep it in the attic and dust it off and bring it downstairs every now and then. But don't worry, not too often. "Classical music," wrote Bloom, "is now a special taste, like Greek language or pre-Columbian archaeology. Thirty years ago [ i.e., now fifty years ago], most middle-class families made some of the old European music a part of the home, partly because they liked it, partly because they thought it was good for the kids." Not anymore. If you'd switched on TV at the stroke of midnight on December 31, 1999 you'd have seen President and Mrs. Clinton and the massed ranks of American dignitaries ushering in the so-called new millennium to the strains of Tom Jones singing "I'm gonna wait till the midnight hour/ That's when my love comes tumblin' down." Say what you like about JFK, but at least Mrs. Kennedy would have booked a cellist.
"Popular culture" is more accurately a "present-tense culture": You're celebrating the millennium but you can barely conceive of anything before the mid-1960s. We're at school longer than any society in human history, entering kindergarten at four or five and leaving college the best part of a quarter-century later—or thirty years later in Germany. Yet in all those decades we exist in the din of the present. A classical education considers society as a kind of iceberg, and teaches you the seven-eighths below the surface. Today, we live on the top eighth bobbing around in the flotsam and jetsam of the here and now. And, without the seven-eighths under the water, what's left on the surface gets thinner and thinner.
So the "Music" chapter is the most difficult one for young fans of The Closing Of The American Mind—because it's the point at which you realize just how much Allan Bloom means it. And by "young fans," I mean anyone under the age of Mick Jagger, who features heavily in that section. A couple of years ago, Sir Mick—as he now is—spent an agreeable hour being interviewed by a pleasant lady he'd carelessly assumed had been dispatched by one of the hip young magazines surfing the cutting edge of the zeitgeist. He was furious to discover subsequently that she was an emissary from Saga, the magazine for British seniors. They put him on the cover as the Pensioner of the Month, and he wasn't happy about it, although one could see their point: When you think about it, "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" makes a much better anthem for seniors than it ever did for rebellious youth. He should be grateful they didn't send their medical correspondent: "I Can't Get No Satisfaction." "Well, it's a common problem at your age. But the good news is that often it's just psychological." Twenty years on from Allan Bloom, this is the triumph of rock's pseudo-revolution: elderly "street-fighting men" with knighthoods—Sir Mick Jagger, Sir Paul McCartney, Sir Elton John, Sir Bob Geldof, Sir Bono.
For Bloom to write his chapter on "Music" seems to many of us braver than attacking the 1960s or the race hucksters or his various other targets. No-one wants to be Mister Squaresville. And it's interesting to see the reaction it gets from readers. Told by Bloom that they know nothing about Brahms or Mozart, they respond that he knows nothing about … well, whomsoever they happen to dig. They point out that his chapter is full of generalities: "Ministering to and according with the arousing and cathartic music, the lyrics celebrate puppy love as well as polymorphous attractions, and fortify them against traditional ridicule and shame." Etc. Turning teacher on the professor, they demand that the assertions be bolstered by examples, by specifics, by an understanding of the difference between the lyrics of, say, Bob Dylan and Britney Spears.
But Bloom is writing about rock music the way someone from the pre-rock generation experiences it. You've no interest in the stuff, you don't buy the albums, you don't tune to the radio stations, you would never knowingly seek out a rock and roll experience—and yet it's all around you. You go to buy some socks, and it's playing in the store. You get on the red eye to Heathrow, and they pump it into the cabin before you take off. I was filling up at a gas station the other day and I noticed that outside, at the pump, they now pipe pop music at you. This is one of the most constant forms of cultural dislocation anybody of the pre-Bloom generation faces: Most of us have prejudices: we may not like ballet or golf, but we don't have to worry about going to the deli and ordering a ham on rye while some ninny in tights prances around us or a fellow in plus-fours tries to chip it out of the rough behind the salad bar. Yet, in the course of a day, any number of non-rock-related transactions are accompanied by rock music. I was at the airport last week, sitting at the gate, and over the transom some woman was singing about having two lovers and being very happy about it. And we all sat there as if it's perfectly routine. To the pre-Bloom generation, it's very weird—though, as he notes, "It may well be that a society's greatest madness seems normal to itself." Whether or not rock music is the soundtrack for the age that its more ambitious proponents tout it as, it's a literal soundtrack: it's like being in a movie with a really bad score. So Bloom's not here to weigh the merit of the Beatles vs. Pink Floyd vs. Madonna vs. Niggaz with Attitude vs. Eminem vs. Green Day. They come and go, and there is no more dated sentence in Bloom's book than the one where he gets specific and wonders whether Michael Jackson, Prince, or Boy George will take the place of Mick Jagger. But he's not doing album reviews, he's pondering the state of an entire society with a rock aesthetic.
That's another reason I don't like the term "popular culture"—because hardly any individual examples of popular culture are that popular. I don't mean that whatever the current Number One single is this week will sell far fewer copies than the Number Ones of the 1940s, but in the sense that a gangsta rapper is not as popular as Puccini was ninety years ago, or Franz Lehár a century ago, or Offenbach. Popular culture has dwindled down to a bunch of mutually hostile unpopular popular cultures. The only thing about it that's universally popular is its overall undemanding aesthetic.
So Bloom is less concerned with music criticism than with what happens when a society's incidental music becomes its manifesto. The key to what's happened is in the famous first sentence of the book. "There is," writes the author, "one thing a professor can be absolutely certain of: almost every student entering the university believes, or says he believes, that truth is relative." To quote the African dictator in a Tom Stoppard play, a relatively free press is a free press run by one of my relatives. A relative culture ends up ever shorter of any relatives to relate to. In educational theory, it's not about culture vs. "counter-culture" but rather what I once called lunch-counterculture: It's all lined up for you and you pick what you want. It's the display case of rotating pies at the diner: one day the student might pick Milton, the next Bob Dylan. But, if Milton and Bob Dylan are equally "valid," equally worthy of study, then Bob Dylan will be studied and Milton will languish. And so it's proved, most exhaustively, in music.
Recently, I was sent a clipping from Newsweek's 1964 cover story on the arrival in America of the Beatles:
Visually they are a nightmare: tight, dandified, Edwardian-Beatnik suits and great pudding bowls of hair. Musically they are a near-disaster: guitars and drums slamming out a merciless beat that does away with secondary rhythms, harmony, and melody. Their lyrics (punctuated by nutty shouts of "yeah, yeah, yeah!") are a catastrophe, a preposterous farrago of Valentine-card romantic sentiments.
There was nothing unusual about those sentiments in 1964. As Bryce Zadel of the Instant History website put it, "The Beatles generation became so mainstream that nobody can imagine that people felt that way, but Newsweek wasn't just being stuffy, they were representing the overwhelming feelings of the vast majority of people over, say, twenty." Including some quite cool people over twenty. That same year, in the film of Goldfinger , James Bond compares drinking unchilled champagne to listening to the Beatles without earmuffs. Nobody at Newsweek would be so confidently dismissive of any pop culture figure on the way up today. Compare and contrast that analysis with this MTV show more or less exactly forty years later—2004. The interviewer asks his guest: "Well, we know that you were into rock and roll when you were in high school, and we know that you play the guitar now. Are there any trends out there in music, or even in popular culture in general, that have piqued your interest?"
And the guest—presidential candidate John Kerry—replied: "Oh sure. I follow and I'm interested. I'm fascinated by rap and by hip-hop. I think there's a lot of poetry in it. There's a lot of anger, a lot of social energy in it. And I think you'd better listen to it pretty carefully, 'cause it's important. I'm still listening because I know that it's a reflection of the street and it's a reflection of life."
Really? John Kerry is "fascinated" by rap and "listening" to hip-hop? Think if you broke into the Kerry household and riffled through John and Teresa's CD collection you'd find a single rap album? I didn't mind Senator Kerry when he was being mocked as a flip-flopper, but I find him even less plausible as America's first flip-flopper hip-hopper. You can smell the fear in his answer.
And consider his recitation of rap's virtues: there's "a lot of anger, a lot of social energy … it's a reflection of the street." That's something else that happens in a relativist culture. First, if Tupac Shakur is just as good as Milton, then everybody drops Milton. Then comes the second stage: once Milton's dropped, and Bach and Keats and Mozart, you no longer have a very clear idea of who exactly Tupac Shakur is meant to be as good as. It's not comparative anymore: he's all there is. The argument is that, oh, well, you uptight squares are always objecting to stuff: you thought Sinatra exciting bobbysoxers was dangerous, and the Viennese waltz was the mating dance of a hypersexualized culture. No. Benny Goodman, noted by Bloom, was a huge pop star but he could play the Mozart clarinet concerto. Popular culture used to be very at ease with the inheritance of the past. One of the trends of the last forty years is not just the vanishing of "high culture" but of low-culture jokes about high culture—the variety-show sketches in which Schubert's mates urge him to come down the pub with him and he says "No, I've got to stay in and finish my symphony." It assumes a residual familiarity—from some half-recalled school lesson—with a bloke called Schubert who wrote an "Unfinished Symphony."
Likewise, P. G. Wodehouse is stuffed with literary and classical and Biblical allusions: "He conveyed to young Mr. Rastall-Retford the impression that, in the dear old 'Varsity days, they had shared each other's joys and sorrows, and, generally, had made Damon and Pythias look like a pair of cross-talk knockabouts at one of the rowdier music-halls." Wodehouse assumes you know who Damon and Pythias are: They were best pals back in the fourth century BC. Ran into a spot of bother with Dionysius of Syracuse. You could junk Damon and Pythias and replace them with Damon and Affleck—Matt Damon and Ben Affleck: They're also best pals, they make movies together. But eventually you dwindle down to a present-tense culture unable to refer to anything beyond itself. You can make the argument that, say, Jerome Kern, the first great Broadway composer of the twentieth century, is at his best as harmonically sophisticated as Schubert. But to do that you would first have to know something about Schubert. I think it's harder to make the claim to harmonic sophistication in the Beatles, but William Mann, the music critic of The Times of London, gave it a go in 1963, comparing the Aeolian cadence in "Not A Second Time" with the end of Mahler's "Song of the Earth." But, as I said, to do that you have to know about Mahler.
And once Mahler's gone and Schubert's gone, you can no longer make musical claims for rock and rap, so all you do is hail it for its authenticity and its energy and, as John Kerry did, its copious amounts of "anger." Thus, the loss of a high-culture aesthetic eventually undermines your pop culture, too. Imagine if talking pictures hadn't been invented in 1927, but eighty years later, in 2007. Do you think Hollywood studios today would conclude that they needed to hire house composers and full orchestras to accompany the drama with symphonic scores? Something we take for granted about the form of modern talking pictures—dialogue accompanied by orchestral music—arose from a particular kind of cultural aspiration that no longer exists. Allan Bloom quotes Gotthold Lessing on Greek sculpture: "Beautiful men made beautiful statues, and the city had beautiful statues in part to thank for beautiful citizens." "This formula," writes Bloom, "encapsulates the fundamental principle of the esthetic education of man. Young men and women were attracted by the beauty of heroes whose very bodies expressed their nobility. The deeper understanding of the meaning of nobility comes later, but is prepared for by the sensuous experience and is actually contained in it."
What happens when, instead of beautiful men making beautiful statues, angry men make angry songs? "Keepin' it real," in the current black vernacular, means the rapper Nelly making a video in which he swipes a credit card through his ho's butt. "Keepin' it real" means songs in which men are "angry" (as John Kerry says) and violent and nihilistic, and women are "sluts, bobbing chicken heads, and of course bitches." "Authenticity" is surely a more reductive view of the black experience than your average nineteenth-century minstrel show ever attempted. I think we can guess how Nat "King" Cole would have felt about gangsta rap. Duke Ellington has more in common with Ravel than with Snoop Dogg. Scott Joplin had far more reason to be "angry" than any hip-hopper but he didn't put it in the music. To eliminate a century and a half's tradition of beauty and grace from your identity isn't "keepin' it real," it's keepin' it unreal in deeply unhealthy ways.
Rap is, of course, an outlier, as the statisticians say, but it illustrates what happens when pop culture becomes unmoored from its inheritance, and can only justify itself in social terms. Bloom distills rock lyrics into three dominant themes: "sex, hate and a smarmy, hypocritical version of brotherly love." First the sex: "The sexual revolution must overthrow all the forces of domination, the enemies of nature and happiness. From love comes hate, masquerading as social reform. A worldview is balanced on the sexual fulcrum. What were once unconscious or half-conscious childish resentments become the new Scripture. And then comes the longing for the classless, prejudice-free, conflictless, universal society that necessarily results from liberated consciousness—'We Are The World.'"
The music biz have been humbug revolutionaries ever since 1955 when Bill Haley and Elvis put them in the permanent-revolution business. The kids tore up movie seats to "Rock Around the Clock," even though its composer wrote it as a foxtrot, and its lyricist was born in 1890. When Max Freedman was a rebellious teenager, the big hits were "The Merry Widow Waltz," Kipling's "Road To Mandalay," and "When A Fellow's On The Level With A Girl That's On The Square." And, unlike most revolutions, the regime itself—in the shape of RCA, Columbia, Warner Brothers, and the other corporate entities that dominate the business to this day—proved far wilier survivors than Louis XVI. They've made a very nice living out of ersatz revolution.
Well, they're the suits in the back room. What of the revolutionaries themselves? The last time I saw Paul McCartney on stage he was urging us all to give our money to Africa. Yet I found myself thinking of Sir Paul's late wife. Linda McCartney had been a resident of the United Kingdom for three decades, but her Manhattan tax lawyers, Winthrop Stimson Putnam & Roberts, devoted considerable energy in her final months to establishing her right to have her estate probated in New York state. That way she could avoid the 40 percent death duties levied by Her Majesty's Government.
At the Live8 extravaganza in London two years ago, Dave Gilmour of Pink Floyd said: "I want to do everything I can to persuade the G8 leaders to make huge commitments to the relief of poverty and increased aid to the Third World. It's crazy that America gives such a paltry percentage of its GNP to the starving nations."
No, it's not. It's no more crazy than Linda McCartney giving such a paltry percentage of her estate—i.e., 0 percent—to the British Treasury. Africa is a hard place to help. Madonna urged the people to "start a revolution." Like Africa hasn't had enough of those these past forty years? The rockers demand we give our money to African dictators to manage, while they give their money to Winthrop Stimson Putnam & Roberts to manage. Which of those models makes more sense?
That's the impact of a pop-culture aesthetic: The revolutionary principles Warner and Sony and BMG pay mere lip service to as a necessary façade for maintaining market share have been taken up for real by the rest of us. Recall Bloom's list of what he calls "the three great lyrical themes: sex, hate and a smarmy, hypocritical version of brotherly love." That's not a critique of pop music but of society as a whole. First, sex: The narcissism and self-gratification of adolescent romance—the "slavery to self," as Professor Robert P. George called it, that Bloom asks us to rise above—is now presumed to be the only basis of true fulfillment in the modern world. Then, hate: the bogus "social reform" that's little more than a bit of cover for trashing the past. And finally, the "smarmy, hypocritical brotherly love," the sappy one-worldism in which we sing songs about global brotherhood in order to avoid having to give a thought to the world.
This is the heart of the Bloom critique that "such polluted sources issue in a muddy stream where only monsters can swim. It is of historic proportions that a society's best young and their best energies should be so occupied. People of future civilizations will wonder at this and find it as incomprehensible as we do the caste system, witch-burning, harems, cannibalism and gladiatorial combats." Confronted by these sentiments, many young readers just shrug: The old man doesn't get it. Not his fault. He's just old. In a way, their reaction or lack of it vindicates his final point: "As long as they have the Walkman on, they cannot hear what the great tradition has to say. And, after its prolonged use, when they take it off, they find they are deaf." He's mouthing away but they can't hear. Like Britney when the lip-synching goes awry.
And most of us of Sir Mick Jagger's age and younger don't want to hear, either. To be sure, this or that gangsta rapper is a bit much, and Britney's a sad old slapper, and Madonna's a clapped-out provocateur, but what's wrong with a bit of rock and roll? Nothing. Except that, when it's ubiquitous, it's stunting. Paul Simon and I once had a longish conversation about this and eventually he conceded that even the best rockers had nevertheless been unable to develop beyond a very basic harmonic language: There isn't enough there to teach in a "music" course. But what else is left? The old middle-brow middle-class couples who subscribed to the symphony every season and dutifully sat there through Beethoven, Bartók, Brahms, and Bernstein are all but extinct, and pitied for their inability to cut loose and boogie in the same way we feel sorry for those trapped in a loveless marriage. What a difference it would make if grade-schoolers could know just enough of a smattering of Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony to recognize the excellent joke "The Simpsons" makes of it. What an achievement it would be if every high-school could acquire a classical catalogue as rich as that used in Looney Tunes when Elmer Fudd goes hunting Daffy Duck or Bugs Bunny. Carl Stalling, who scored those cartoons, often fell back on formula: If someone was in a cave, the orchestra would play "Fingal's Cave." But you can't even do that any more, because no-one gets the joke.
Shorn of the other seven-eighths of the iceberg, the present-tense culture is insufficient. At my local school in New Hampshire, the music teacher eschews the classics and teaches boomer rock, much to the bemusement of her young charges for whom forty-year-old pop songs are as remote as 400-year-old sonatas. Children are asked to pick a favorite Beatle. Why would a six-year-old have such a thing? The Fab Four split up thirty years before he was born. It's like my old music teacher asking me to pick my favorite member of Paul Whiteman's Yacht Club Boys.
But she never did. And that's the biggest difference between 2007 and 1987. What Allan Bloom observed in his students can now be found in the teachers.

I Almost Forgot

But Al-Ayyam was kind enough to remind me what the Palestinians can be.

(the Arabic sentence is "Balfour's crime").

Tuesday Rush

2007-10-31T12:29:00.000+02:00

The lecturers' strike causes many problems, not going to half my classes is the least of them. Most people do not know which classes are on and which are not, and now the other lecturers threaten to join the strike. Yesterday, luckily, I listened to the news and heard that the not-big-shot lecturers decided not to strike, so I grabbed my stuff (did not even brush my hair) and ran to class. Got there just in time to grab a coffee from the cafeteria and find a seat.

Every new lecture I have reveal how much I learnt last year. I have to hand in a book review in Profession of the Historian. I thought about reviewing "1066 and All That" which cannot really be counted as proper history book, but I hope my lecturer has a sense of humour (so far she proved the opposite).

Sounds of Silence or: The Honey Trap

2007-10-28T14:15:00.000+02:00

Last night I met Yoni for a little update after I called him on Thursday and he said: "busy. Later". And when he called later he said that when I called him he was busy killing terrorists who tried to put bombs near the border fence. Scary stuff. He summarised it as "good fun".
We went to a little forest near Ora. He forgot his cellphone in the car (he can't really leave it behind), so he went to get it. The night was very bright, almost as if the sun was shining and not the moon. As I sat there in the silvery light the first thing that caught me was the silence. Not a sound to be heard. Then, suddenly, you become aware of all kinds of sounds: cars that pass very far away. Insects. Twigs move in the wind. It is quite a sensation to be so close to nature, or at least to things that fast modern life ignore.

I do not know how, but the Canadian and I are suddenly on speaking terms again and we set up a meeting for tomorrow, so the Canadian can explain his new political view, which, surprisingly support a one-state solution. I guess curiosity got the better (or worst?) of me.

Friends

2007-10-24T12:54:00.000+02:00

A few days ago (so much has happened since, it seems like last month) all the flatmates went drinking together. It was really cool. It reminded me of the sitcom, although there are no other striking similarities.
Since then Rotem happened to lose her grandfather and I came to realise that Yoni and I were never meant to be. All the euphoria evaporated. What keeps me going is that even though the lecturers strike, some still teach (those who do not belong to the lecturers union or something), so I had a few classes yesterday (I went just to check that this specific lecturer does not teach. Lucky). And today I had a class with my favourite Dr Segal. Gosh, I missed his classes. And another class about the history of the Palestinians. It is going to be a very interesting year.

Potter, Our Saviour

2007-10-22T14:13:00.000+02:00

At long last all the rooms in my dorm flat are occupied, and to my pleasant surprise (and to the other flat mates' horror) Rotem is one of my new flat mates. The discovery of this fact yesterday led to several fits of shrieks and jumps by both of us.
Apparently, all the flat mates are Potter fans, except one guy, who I expect by the end of the year to be well-versed in Potter's adventures. Otherwise he will be lost while the rest of us dissect the latest book (drenched in Christian kitsch, if you ask me).

On the down side, the Canadian is back and he has been haunting me a bit in the last days, which is very uncomfortable. I do not know what do to, because I do not want to open the wounds again and explain why I broke up with him, nor do I want to become nasty and insult him.

Strangely as it is, I miss Peter. I got used to his presence in the week I spent in Coventry and reducing our communication to e-mails again is a bit weird. And I did not realise how much I missed Rotem until last night. I forgot how pleasant it is to have someone who completes your sentences and shares your views regarding flat mate-ship (as well as other subjects).

Things You May Have Seen on the News (or maybe not)

2007-10-21T13:53:00.000+02:00

This little piece from today's the Guardian, for example. Rather shocking, I'd say.

A long time ago, the Palestinian factions maintained the facade that they can live together under one roof and form one government. Since June 2007 only actors not from the region maintain the facade. Fatah and Hamas are essentially running two separate PAs. Fatah's PA in the West Bank and Hamas' PA in Gaza Strip. The outcome of this separation is that the WB PA does not recognise travel certificates issued in Gaza. Since the WB PA is the internationally recognised PA, this little administrative step has great and sometimes tragic ramifications. Say you are a Palestinian and you have diabetes. For years you received your medical treatment in one of the Israeli hospitals (this is something they do not bother telling you: while the Palestinians have their own hospitals, most go to Israel for advanced treatment, paid by the PA), but a week after Hamas took over Gaza, your travel certificate expired, and no one recognises the certificate you got from the new regime. This is in a nutshell the plight of the Palestinians, and the most tragic and ironic side of this plight, is that any kind of compromise on humanitarian basis has huge political ramifications that no one is willing to take.

The fictional anecdote above is actually very true. Someone in Gaza was so desperate because of the separation between the PAs, that he tried to set fire to himself in a protest against Hamas.

Mission: Impossible

2007-10-16T13:19:00.000+02:00

Today I added another person to the "people I admire" list: my colleague Rona. She studies today in Sam Spiegel's school for film, and she made a film about her life, as she is handicapped because of a severe road accident several years ago. I do not think someone else could cope with all the things she went through, despite all what she went through she is today one of the more optimistic people I know. She was not present in the room, because she thought it would be awkward. Quite right, and I do not know how I will be able to look in her eyes when I see her, because she reveals quite a lot in the film. Even though the topic is depressing, the film itself is quite funny, because this is Rona.

New Flat Mates, Old Fears

2007-10-14T11:43:00.000+02:00

I knew someone moved to the room Korin used to occupy the week before I travelled, but only last night I met him. He is, well, no other word for it: an Ars (Guido in American, Chuv in English). It does not imply he lacks brains, but he makes me feel elitist, prim English lady-like, which gives me a false air of superiority I detest. It also means that conversation is peppered with terms that should not be heard in polite conversation and that he lacks table manners. It is going to be an interesting experience living with him. I hope my phone call to the Dorf administration office was useful and Rotem will live with me.

I really hope I will have nice flat mates. Somehow all the people I met so far who recently moved to the Dorf were Mekhina people, which means these are people who did not learn in high school and understood that the future lies in studying only later in life and hence must learn again math, history and the like. Oh, well.

My State Visit

2007-10-12T16:20:00.000+02:00

Grace
2.10.2007: made my way quite conveniently from Tel Aviv to Coventry. Although I managed to "travel with style", ten hours of it makes you quite knackered. I nearly bumped into Peter as I heaved my suitcase toward the train station's exit.
When I got to his house, a warm meal waited for us, and I encountered a Christian habit I think adopting. They say grace before the main meal of the day (it was predicted: Peter's father is a vicar), but the grace changes according to circumstances. For instance, when I arrived it was about my safe arrival. The next day it was about something else. I think it is really nice, because it allows you to thank God for the little miracles of the day, as well as the food.

The three spires
3.10.2007: Coventry is known for its three spires. Nowadays you can barely see them, as Peter told me when we climbed the Cathedral's spire, soon people will not know the town's name but it will be known as "the place with Ikea". This year I learnt a lot about the importance of the sky line, so I assume that Coventry, being on top of a hill (that is why it was not affected by the floods during the Summer), was an important religious centre, and still is, as the Cathedral seemed quite an important part of the city's life.

The two out of three spires

Faith in unlikely places
4.10.2007: it was the last day of Succot in the Holy Land, and I thought exploring the habits of diaspora Jewry will be interesting. After failing to find a Beth Knesset in Coventry the day before (we even went to a Catholic church to ask), Peter volunteered to go with me to a Beth Knesset in Birmingham. We drove for about an hour in silence (I cannot talk when I navigate). When we arrived to the place I found out that diaspora Jews separate the last day of Succot from Simkhat Tora (the conversation was in Hebrew), and apparently we arrived a day early. Peter suggested we go to the big shopping mall nearby. The weird thing about the place is that there are no security guards in the entrance. When I commented about it, Peter gave me a weird look. We wandered around and then went to Pret for a spot of lunch and spoke about doubts in faith. Who could believe that a frank conversation about faith can take place in such un-holy place (unless you count HMV as a temple). Another weird thing: "pickle" is sweet.

Faded Glory
5.10.2007: I gave Peter a day free from my constant questions and went to explore the nearby towns. Apparently, blind trust in my brother was far fetched, as he gave me the camera - sans batteries. So no Pictures from Warwickshire. All those towns are small and dominated by a castle or other building that served the monarchy at some stage. It seems as though those towns has not realised it is the 21st century: they still rely on their past glory as a resort place or a strategic point for someone from the nobility.

Taking it easy
6.10.2007: although I cannot remember the last time I took a Shabbat stroll, this time I thought it was appropriate and asked Peter to show me around the countryside. He took me to the village in which he used to live and we wandered around the fields through which he used to walk his dog. It seemed as though we cannot keep quite when together, and we wandered through the fields talking about sovereignty and Just War.

Southam

You, me and Him

7.10.2007: As you could gather, Sunday was dominated by the service in the Cathedral, which is, by the way, absolutely freezing. I woke up at 2am, feeling that something dreadful happened to Yoni. The bad feeling did not leave me when I woke up or when I told it to Peter's mum. As I did my utmost not to blend in, I tried to see the logic behind all the happening around me. I could discern to trends in the service, which relate and essentially link good neighbourliness with proper worship of God. I quite like the idea. In Beth Knesset, you do not shake your neighbour's hand and wish him peace. You talk to God (in a frozen language most do not know). Talking is prohibited. I think it should change, but I guess I am in minority.

Peter was one of the candle holders and I hurried after him after the service, hoping I can get a proof of him wearing a dress, but to no avail.

After the service I called Yoni. He called me a "silly girl" for thinking he was injured. But I guess it is better to be a silly girl than have a dead friend. Then I went to the park to vent my relief in the form of a short trip and a few flip-flops.

Apparently it is a world trend not to eat a big supper on the night of the holy day. Peter and I made poached eggs on toast (I taught Peter how to break and egg with a knife), which he ate with ketchup. Is it something common in the Commonwealth, Bren?

My fair lady

8.10.2007: this is by no means the climax of my visit: tea in the House of Lords with Peter's grandparents. We drew odd looks as we practiced Peter's (very basic) Arabic on the train. We arrived about an hour early and wandered around the Parliament, seeing a protest which was pointless, as the protesters called for troops withdrawal from Iraq, as the British PM announced he will indeed withdraw 2500 by Christmas, and getting to know Peter's heritage (apparently he is related to many great people, including generals, lords and Prime Ministers).

During tea I manged to eat politely and answer ignorant questions about the Conflict and the region. Those years in PMW, PMO and university were not a waste of time, apparently. Then we wandered through the wonders of the House of Lords, and then off into the London night to meet Peter's friend. Eating in a noisy Japanese restaurant was a very different experience from tea this afternoon.

Running through London's transport system in order to get to the train on time earned me two blisters. Once settled on the train we again started a "big talk" about democracy and Western lifestyle. As Peter phrased it: "think about it as an Ant Nest. You need your little ant to do its petty work, live and die without higher aspirations in order to keep the system working. Then you have your more important ants which set a trend and make a change. And then you have your Queen Ant, which I am not sure really lives in the real world".

"Never liked history"

9.1o.2007: it seemed as though I took my umbrella for nothing, but today it was needed. I like rain. And English rain is lovely, as you can use an umbrella. In J-town the rain comes down diagonally and thus an umbrella is useless. I trotted downtown, congratulating myself that I could do this without getting lost and then entered into the dry interior of the Council House in order to meet the Lord Mayor of Coventry. No need of sharp diplomatic answers this time. The man is dull and ignorant in the history of his own country. I found it slightly weird recounting the kings and queens before and after Cromwell to someone who should know it.

The Council House itself is lovely and soaked in local history, as the building was in use from the 13th century: I sat on a chair from the 13th century! Wow!

Stiff upper lip

Maybe Peter's family is not so English as they pretend to be, or that if you are nice and friendly your true nature shines through the cold Englishness. You do not have to call someone "dear" or "love" in order to express feelings. I think that driving an hour for (apparently) nothing or giving someone something that is yours (your coat, a space in your bag) is far more telling than gestures that can be empty. You can kiss without emotion. You cannot fake emotion if you go out of your way to do something for someone else.

The travel bug

What is it about travelling or just taking a walk that makes everything clear and reasonable?

Back

2007-10-11T10:18:00.000+02:00

Tired. Stories and photos later.

Queen of India, or: Travelling Dangerously

2007-09-30T12:43:00.000+02:00

On Friday I did all in my power to reach the headlines, but to no avail. After my first trip to Sderot a month ago (it seems so long ago), I dragged my parents there. The charming town I encountered on my first visit vanished. Instead, I saw a town nearly deserted. Most of the people were in the supermarket, neurotic and in a rush to finish their shopping. You do not see people stand in the street talk to people they know. It is too dangerous.

My dad, a practical man, understood Sderot's geist after fifteen minutes and suggested we continue. Next stop: Gaza Strip, or as close as you can get to it. A few days before the trip I told Yoni I will be in the area and asked if I can come visit him in his outpost. Surprisingly, he said yes (I expected him either to be too busy to entertain guests or that you cannot come as it is too dangerous). For the occasion I purchased a box of cookies and put in a plastic bag in the kitchen. Slowly the bag filled with snacks and other things to bring to the brave soldier. My dad asked me if I would like to bring Yoni one of his honey cakes. Now, this is rather exceptional and indicates he highly regards the recipient.

The visit to the outpost was not marked by news-worthy incidents. I was not kidnapped or shot at. We just stood at the entrance and talked for what I thought was fifteen minutes, but my mum says it was much longer. Time flies, I guess.

Last night I met Eshel, after he came back from India. We did nothing much, just watched television, when from time to time Eshel remembered a cool anecdote from his trip. He says India changed him, but I did not see that, maybe because we did not talk much. We watched the third Star Wars film. At some point, when you see that Anakin's eyes changed into a yellowish shade, Eshel said "they say the eyes are the window to the soul. Such B******t". Hmm. Then the film ended and almost every channel broad casted Friends episodes. I guess that people who do not like Friends suffer if they choose to watch television at one AM.

I fly to Coventry on Tuesday. Hoorah! (But I guess the dear blog will suffer a bit).

Cosmetics

2007-09-24T07:53:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I had to go to one of the places I dislike the most: the mall. The coming trip to England means that all kinds of things have to be purchased. For quite some time I thought to replenish my stock of clear powder and since I was in an area where such a thing is available, I thought I'd look into it. And then I remembered why I dislike buying cosmetics. I entered a shop which smells lovely and looked around. "May I help you?" a saleslady with Kabuki-like make up rounded me. "Do you have clear powder?" I asked, but she ignored my question and demanded in a tone I think she reserves for her daughter when she done something bad: "Are you taking care of it?" pointing at the small colony of pimples that settled this morning on my chin. "Yes" I answered, calculating the number of steps from my location to the door. "How?" she demanded again, her heavily painted lids narrowing. I gave her the full list of products I religiously put on myself morning and night. I thought it would be enough to release me from the claws of this monster. "This is not enough," she simpered "I admit these are good products, but you must try our ****, after six months your face will be clear". At this point I was really impatient. "No, thanks, I think I will stick to my cleansing regime" I tried to say as politely as I could. "Do you have clear powder?" I asked again and regretted asking the moment the words left my mouth. I was not in a mood for cosmetics-shopping after such a speech about my pimples from a rude saleslady. "Sveta!" the Kabuki Lady called and a plump saleslady appeared. "She wants clear powder" she said in a tone that indicated that I am doing myself a disservice not inquiring into the product she must sell a thousand packages of before the end of the month. Sveta, unlike the Kabuki Lady, was very nice and gave me some useful tips about make up, but I just thanked her and left the shop. I hate buying cosmetics.

Maybe I Am Getting Old...

2007-09-23T12:00:00.000+02:00

...And maybe it is really a change of generation. On Thursday night I had a rare opportunity to have a close look at the young people of the new millennium. And I was shocked. The experiment started on the bus down town, which was packed with people either with hair over their eyes and baggy clothes or otherwise very tight and colourful garments and their hair shaped in ridiculous, hedgehog-like spikes. The new cellphones, apparently, can play music as loud as the bus' stereo, and songs filled with anti-religion lyrics filled the bus. I felt ashamed and embarrassed for the two religious guys who sat next to me. Given that they go out on a Thursday night, I am sure they are not the kind of religious guys that throw stones at girls who dress immodestly.

Then I had about forty minutes to sit in a cafe and watch the people go by. Shockingly, the only girls who dressed according to their body size were the religious girls. I saw one girl who easily passed the "overweight" category and easily entered "obese" but she was dressed in such chic that complemented her size that all you could do was gape and admire.

I know the new emo fashion demands super-skinny, size 0 figure, but never seen a living proof to that. In the 1990s the cause for this unnatural thinness was heroin, these days it is depression. On Thursday night a saw a group of girls, aged I think between 15 and 16. All of them wearing skinny jeans, All-Star sneakers and "vintage" shirts. Only one manged to pull the emo look properly, but she also had the body of an 11-year-old. You would expect a girl of sixteen to sport a small set of breasts (sorry for being so graphic) and a nice set of curves at the waist. Her other friends could dress in a way that would enhance the fact that they are young women and not coat hangers.

Then Jennifer arrived.

Yom Kippur came and went uneventfully. How was yours?

Home Sweet Home

2007-09-19T13:09:00.000+02:00

The last few days were a physical demonstration of the proverb "you do not know what you have until it is gone", or, as my father summarised it "sometimes you need a bit of change to know were you stood". Living with Reut was an interesting lesson in the importance of privacy, and I am thankful to God for that lesson.
Yesterday I called the dorms administration and asked how I can move back to the Dorf. They said it is really easy, just give back my keys in the matchbox and sign a new contract in the Dorf. Good and sound as Bren's advice is, I am not ready to leave the dorms yet. All my friends are here, and hearing the problems people in "real" flats have, I am thankful I do not have to worry about things such as leaks in the bathroom and the like.
So I am back in my beautiful cosy little room in the Dorf. It took about six trips with a heavy suitcase back and forth, but in less than five hours I moved all my stuff. Someone up there was nice enough to send all kinds of modern knights to help me carry the suitcase up the stairs, whenever I thought about giving up. Went to St John's today after I finished all the dorm business (giving back my key in the matchbox dorms) to say thanks to Whoever is responsible for those little miracles and the important lesson I learnt.
It's good to be back home.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

2007-09-18T13:28:00.000+02:00

Sang the Rolling Stones. But can you at least try? Last night I met a friend of a friend (Ilya, it was the weird bald guy from the Old Friend, if you remember) to a friendly drink (though I think he thinks it was a date). The conversation was divided into two major parts: 1. my new dorms 2. fantasy books. As for my new dorms, while narrating all the problems with the new flat (it's tiny, I have a room mate), I understood that going back to the Studentendorf, even if the flats there are cloned, will give me something priceless: privacy. I never thought what a noisy business it is to get ready to work. Brushing your hair makes loud noises, not speaking about brushing your teeth. So now I concentrate my efforts on getting a room for myself only in dem Dorf. Wish me luck.
The other part of the conversation is not really worth reporting. Just the usual "did you read ___? Wasn't it great?" kind of conversation. We decided to go to the Betzefer concert next week. It will be the first time I will go to a heavy metal concert. I listen to quite a lot of it, but never went to a concert. It is scary and exciting at the same time. I hope I will not be forced to join a Fogo dance. I do not think my knees will survive.
The weird and cool thing of the whole evening was that even though I do not know this person, he gives a feeling of familiarity, as if we were friends ages ago and now only catch up. It is a rare talent I wish I had.

I'll try to update as soon as I'll figure out all the things concerning the dorms and my attempts to regain my privacy (and thus my sanity - I couldn't sleep these past two nights since I moved because I cannot relax there. I have dark circles under my eyes and on the verge of tears constantly). Wish me luck!

Dirty Day

2007-09-17T07:42:00.000+02:00

As my contract at the Studentendorf expires on Thursday, I have to move out. Apparently, my brilliant plan to move in with two of my friends was not so brilliant because of all kinds of bureaucratic complications. So now I live in a tiny flat with a room mate.

When I started moving my stuff, all my room mate's (her name is Reut, as I learnt later, and she studies PPE: Politics, Philosophy, Economics) things were spread all over the tiny room. I wanted to cry, it was really too much. The only ray of hope was that most of the things were Jane Austen books, which meant that my room mate is a lovely person.

Yesterday I learnt to appreciate my parents and Yoni. As everything became a bit too much - you really cannot be cheerful and optimistic about not getting what you want after two hours' sleep and a strong pill I had to take (a long story) - I started breathing unsteadily and fast and knew an anxiety attack is on its way. Before it took hold on me I called Yoni (though I wished Bren would be around. A good sarcastic comment would have done the job quicker than sympathy) and after five minutes or so my breathing became normal again.
On his advice I took a nap (without meaning it, I fasted yesterday, like you should) and renewed the moving when he and my parents came.

I crashed on my tiny bed after midnight.

The flat is not so bad and maybe not getting what I wanted is actually blessing in disguise.

Why Syria?

2007-09-12T09:04:00.000+03:00

Last Thursday I was not supposed to go to work, but my boss called me and asked me to get to the office as soon as I can. The reason? "there's something going on with Syria". I was sure he was being secretive and the promised war of the Summer started.
When I arrived to the office I found out that only the Israeli media was in uproar because of the "thing". It was a very weird incident. Even today, almost a week afterwards there are still rumors about it.

My colleague thinks it was an Israeli attempt to try and see how far north-east the planes can go before they are detected. Inspired by the things I learnt this year, I think it is the scapegoat theory. I think the problem lies in the South, namely, Gaza, but there is nothing to do about it, so, in a variation on the popular proverb, "if your head aches, drop a 5-kilo hammer on your foot", Israel tried to do just that.
But last night a Qassam fell on the base in which I did my basic training and sort of ruined the diversion the incident with Syria provided.

Yesterday I went shopping with Rotem and her cousin and most of lunch time was devoted to possible courses of action after the Zikim incident. There can be an "instant" operation, which means entering Gaza just to show force, and taking the troops back by Yom Kippur, or, there can be a long operation which means establishing a "security zone" two or three kilometres into Gaza, to prevent the Qassams from falling on Sderot. This operation is not likely to receive world-wide support, since it will look like re-occupation of Gaza. But the first option is not likely to achieve anything. And this is before you calculate party politics. A short operation will give the PM enough popular admiration, but it will evaporate as soon as there is another Qassam attack with casualties. A longer operation may not be popular world-wide and if there are many casualties among the troops it will take away the popular and parliamentary support maybe it had before, but I think it is the best option, if not the most popular.

On the other hand, I remember I once asked Dr Loewenheim if there can be a foreign policy based on the principal "turn the other cheek". He said there cannot be such a policy, for such a policy will be seen as weakness and not strength. Maybe, just this time, Israel should not retaliate and ignore the Qassam attack on Zikim? I mean, not ignore, but turn to the Security Council (normal procedure, it usually does not help) and Abbas and ask him to do something about it for Israel is aware that this is his chance to show leadership. Or maybe I am too naive.

Poverty

Yesterday was my last test. Hoorah! It feels so weird, not to have to study to something.
After the test I went with Rotem to brunch (or late breakfast). As we sat in Cafe Hillel and drank coffee, a nice lady with tie-dye dress came to our table and asked if she can take the leftovers. Of course we said yes, and in a flash all the bread and butter disappeared.
After a boring and tiring meeting of the dorm team (I am part of it. It is the best way to know when and where are the parties, and it means free beer in the students' pub!) Rotem and I took the bus to her native town of Netanya. As we waited for the bus to depart, I saw an old man picking up all the cigarettes people lit and had to throw away immediately afterwards because their bus arrived. Those two incidents made me very sad. I knew Jerusalem is the poorest city in Israel and that the new economical regime Netanyahu started a few years ago led to a growth in the GNP, but also made more people poor. Yesterday I saw a living proof to that.

The first time

(Warning: TMI)

Yesterday I went with Rotem and her cousin to buy something to wear on my visit to the Parliament in October. I bought a really chic brown skirt suit. And a sexy bra. It is the first time ever since I started wearing bras that I bothered purchasing a sexy lacy bra. It's really exciting.

Final Lap

2007-09-09T14:55:00.000+03:00

Tomorrow is my final exam and I try not to study my brains out. The weird incident with Syria makes me think, but I have to study and write my exam before I can write something that does not concern the Cold War.

Shopping Time!

2007-09-04T14:04:00.000+03:00

Today I received a very flattering invitation: on my trip in October to Coventry, Peter's grandmother would like to have tea with me in the House of Lords (his grandfather is a member of the House of Lords), on the day of the opening of the Parliament. Does anyone know what is the dress code to such an event?

It's a Jungle Out There

2007-09-03T14:40:00.000+03:00

Living in Gaza these days seems like something I would not wish my foulest enemy. Not a fully blown civil war like in June, but the whole place seems bubbling with bad energy that is about to erupt any second.

Take last Friday, for instance. Apparently, since Hamas took over the Strip in June, the mosques in the area became mouthpieces of the movement. As there are still other people who are not Hamas supporters, they felt uncomfortable attending a mosque which preaches support to Hamas on the Friday sermon. They decided to create an alternative and organised a public prayer in one of Gaza's squares. The Operative force of Hamas, which is a militia more than a policing force, did not like it and started beating the people who attended the prayer, which turned after the sermon into a protest against Hamas.

This incident proved to all those who refused to believe it that Hamas did not take over the Strip just to give it up quietly. There were during the past weeks all kinds of small incidents that prove that Hamas is working hard to base its control over the Strip: shooting at citizens, attacking reporters, arresting people and Fatah supporters.

Even though Fayyad's government tries to act as if it still controls all the Palestinian Authority territories and its new budget includes the Strip, Hamas works to get money independently from Ramallah's government: it increased the taxes on some products such as cigarettes, it tried to increase the taxes on petrol, but the European Union, which still supplies petrol to the Strip, rejected this step by Hamas and did not supply petrol to the Strip for a week. The result was a black out of many parts in Gaza. If the EU was true to its word, as Solana said yesterday, that the EU does not have any sort of dialogue with Hamas, I think the Strip's way back to Fayyad's control was faster: supplying petrol that gives electricity to a terrorist organisation is "dialogue", even if no EU official actually talks to Hamas.
True, blacking out Gaza is not nice, but who said sanctions are a nice thing?

The Palestinians these days are wondering what will happen on Friday, when another public, non-political prayer is scheduled to take place in one of Gaza's public squares. Hamas tried to say such prayers are contradictory to Muslim law, but the chief Qadi said they are perfectly OK by the Shari'a. Now Hamas try to ban public prayers, after it already banned public conferences.

This is scary stuff.

Terror

2007-09-02T07:54:00.000+03:00

Last Friday I joined some four thousand people who decided to take a day trip to Sderot and help the city's failing economy. The reason the city's economy is failing is not surprisingly - the Qassams. Two workmates and I drove there (I mean, Na'ama drove, Ya'el navigated and I was left to enjoy the view). We reached it in record time of one hour ten minutes, but maybe it is not record time, it is just that Sderot it close by, relatively.
Sderot is a very nice place. It was terribly hot, but so is any other place in Israel this week. There is something about it that makes you feel at home even if it is your first time there. We wandered around and poked into various stores. One owner told us that the shop was renovated from scratch after it took a direct hit.
When we were there there was no "code red" alert (the alert a Qassam was fired and you should take cover if you care about your life), but the question "when will it come?" hung in the air, and I guess it is the best definition of "Terror": you do not have to do something, just hint or threaten and you get a city of 25,000 become a ghost town.
Oh, and beer in Sderot costs half its price in Jerusalem.

After I learnt what "Terror" means, yesterday I learnt what "Emotional Blackmail" is. The Canadian did another one last effort to get back to me and called me and then tried to chat with me online. I made it clear that all that I had to say was already said, and he ranted again about how hurt he is, how his world is upended (at this point a guilt and remorse started creeping into my heart) and how it is my responsibility to talk to him about our issues in a rational way (I will not go into what this sentence makes me feel, it is too infuriating) and if we say goodbye now it is forever (my heart missed half a beat. Such sentences, I guess, are designed to make your heart stop and reconsider). I was able to stick to my decision and say that it is fine by me not to talk to him again. After these talks all the progress I did in the past two weeks slightly regressed, but I think it is only one step back, not rolling all the way to square one.

On the good news side, I have a place to stay when I fly to Coventry in October! Peter called on Thursday and said that I can stay at his place. Hoorah!

And another telepathic thing happened last night with Yoni. On Thursday he sent me an SMS telling me he will be out of touch in the coming couple of days, which means he "goes abroad". Gaza is very unstable these days and I never was so worried (maybe only during the war). Last night before I went to sleep I wished he would call, and an hour later he did! I never heard him so happy, so I guess no one was hurt and they managed to do whatever they were told to do.

Livin' on the Edge

2007-08-26T13:02:00.000+03:00

I am still in a very strange mood. I am not sad, I am not happy, I seem to live between fits of the seven phases of breakup. It seems as though all the studying and hanging out with friends are simply an excuse to escape from reality which is feeling bad about the breakup. I do not want to be back with the Canadian, but somehow I find it hard to understand that maybe for the first time in my life I knew what I wanted (or more accurately, what I did not want) and pursued it, even if it meant a hard decision such as breaking up with the Canadian.

I think I passed the first phase which is shock and now I am in the second phase which is anger: I am angry at myself, because I had the doubts about the relationship with the Canadian even before I started dating him, and I let myself forget them along the way. I am angry at the Canadian who was not manly enough to confess that he has no idea what are his plans and dumped all the worries and concerns on me, which is totally unfair.

To top that, I did something I should not have done and now I am afraid I distanced from myself my best friend and someone I can really call "my pillar of support".

PS: All this angst should be channeled to studying and writing political pieces, but I do not seem to possess the energy for that.

Fast and Furious

2007-08-22T13:40:00.000+03:00

"[N]ow we are living in what the New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman calls the "age of interruption", in which we "interrupt each other or ourselves with instant messages, email, spam or cellphone rings. Who can think or write or innovate under such conditions?""(from today's Guardian)

One of the lectures that stand out vividly among the others I had in my favourite Intro to IR class this year is the one about Globalisation. The lecture was more reflections about the impact of Globalisation on world politics than what Globalisation is, for that we have Intro to World History (in which I got 92. Hurrah!). One of Dr Loewenheim's reflections was that Globalisation made everything instant, and thus now politicians want instant results to their decisions. long gone are the days when the diplomatic mail and a rare phone call were the tools of a politician, and sometimes weeks passed before a gesture was answered. A call to remove forces took material shape in a few good months, and everyone were cool with it.

This instantisation of things penetrated everything in our lives. Nowadays it is not that weird that you can send a letter (an electronic one) to a place as far as Australia and receive a reply sometimes a few minutes later. Although I am not ninety and I do not remember the days when letters were the only way to communicate with people overseas, I find it a bit abnormal that communication with people so far away is so easy (although terribly enjoyable).

This abnormal view, that virtually shortens distances creates the illusion that romantic relations can be supported by methods of IM, phone calls and e-mails. This is all very well and true when the subject is friendship. These methods allow you to share thoughts and ideas, but it crashes to the ground when applied to a romantic relationship: there are things that all the technology in the world cannot replace: cuddling on the bed and talking about the little, unimportant pieces that made the past day. These pieces, such as "I saw that they started placing the tracks for the train" or "this morning was really foggy" lose their vitality and seem foolish when written in an IM conversation. Also, hearing a friendly voice is nice, but seeing a friendly face in times of distress is even better, and if you cannot see the face of you loved one, touch it, kiss it, then what is the point? What is the difference between your relationship and any other friendship?

As you can gather, this is me trying to justify the end of the relationship with the Canadian. He cannot see this logic and refuses to let go. This difference of opinion is starting to take its toll. It releases from me, in addition to the normal post breakup feelings of insignificance and the need to relearn to be single and being happy about it, much anger, which is an emotion I detest. I try as much as I can to avoid situations that cause it, but this is simply unavoidable. I guess I am simply too polite to ignore him, but perhaps this is the only way to show him that distance is indeed something that makes relationships impossible and to distance myself from the infuriating effect of talks with the Canadian.

I feel slightly ashamed I had to move the blog to a new address, but the knowledge that pieces like the paragraphs above will be abused made me make a very cowardly choice and implement my freedom of speech - somewhere else.

Stir-Frying Crazy

2007-08-18T13:46:00.000+03:00

Last night I received a very weird phone call. About twenty minutes after Shabbat started Yoni called. He is religious, so I was astounded he called at that time. He said he called just to check everything is alright with me. This is the weird part: earlier that day I wished someone would call to see how I am, because once again I let myself sink because I cannot answer the questions the Canadian set me in a satisfactory way, and knowing his answers and his lightheadedness about the whole thing make me very much confused. This confusion drags me down. Last afternoon once again I sank down because of it and wished someone would call, because I could not bring myself to whine again to my friends on the phone about things they heard about a hundred times before. Rotem called but said it is a good thing I think about it. A few hours ago Yoni called. I guess the telepathic waves took a while to reach him.

Then, a few hours after that Rotem texted me and said she is going crazy because her roommates watch Kokhav Nolad (Israeli Idol) very loudly. In order to get her away from the shallowness and me away from the unhappy thoughts we decided we will go to the cinema. We do not like taking cabs, so we walked all the way to the cinema, which is on the other side of the city. We arrived just in time for "the Simpsons". I think Rotem is the only person with which I can do such crazy things. Shai too, maybe.

The Socket

2007-08-16T07:49:00.000+03:00

I thought about naming this post "אלול" since this is the month we are in and most of what I have to write concerns thoughts about myself and those around me, which is what Elul is all about. In the past two weeks I was asked by two different people the same question, although with a slight change of words: "what do you want to do with your life?". This is a fair question, but not an easy one to answer. The reason it is hard to reply to this question is that I really do not know. I changed my mind about twenty times already. When I was eight, I wanted to be an astronaut (the product of reading too many Jules Verne books). When I finished high school I wanted to be a doctor, but when I finished my army service I wanted to be a translator or something to do with the Arab world, and that determined my courses in uni. Therefore "what do you want to do with your life" means how far can I see in the path I chose. This is a bit of an unfair question, because in first year uni you do not really know what you want to do with your life, because, as Dr Segal told us in one of his lectures, first year uni is about showing us the doors. In the coming years I will look more closely at what lies behind those doors and decide into which room I want to enter and probably stay for a while.

This confusion regarding my path in the professional/academic area had the potential of turning into a debate about faith, but luckily two days ago I went to the Temple Research Institute in the Old City and found out what I am NOT, which is a big step forward. The tour in the institute was modified to make it more fun for the children who were in the group, which made the tour a real torture for those over the age of twelve. The guide explained about the rituals in the Temple and the various artifacts, and I could not help thinking "idolatry". The explanation was embroidered with so many stories that are so unlikely. I mean, the Temple was magnificent enough without the fairy tales, so why stick to them? Those unlikely stories made the stories about Jesus and His miracles seem rational, normal and plausible. After the tour in the Institute I needed a place that represents rational faith (I am aware of the inherent contradictory in the phrase "rational faith", but you know what I mean), so I went to the Church of Holy Sepulchre.
Since she found out about this blog, I must say that the day trip described above was done with the wonderful companionship of Rotem.

Rotem is also the reason I went to sleep last night long after midnight. A friend of hers from Netanya came to town and she took her out to show her around. She decided it is a good idea not to leave me alone at home with a bottle of vodka and unhappy thoughts. She was probably right. After my grand day described in the previous post I started to sink again. Anyway, we took her friend, Noa, to the Blue Hole. Noa was quick to notice the place's biggest advantage (good music) and disadvantage (lack of Guinness). Since she was determined to have a pint of Guinness that night we took her to another place worth haunting: Bolinat. Shai joined us at some point and the three of them started quoting Mel Brooks' "Men in Tights" and singing various Disney songs at the top of their voices. At this point I started tuning out of the scene around me and sank into thoughts which are connected in a very amorphous way. My eyes wandered around and the socket on the wall made me think of a picture Bren had in his old blog of Bolinat. Funny how the mind works. I did not think about that picture because of the location of the table or the window, but because of the socket in the wall...

Then it became very late and we went back home. Before I went to sleep Yoni called. I did not hear from him for a couple of days and was slightly worried. Apparently he was "abroad" (if you know what I mean). This guy really has the biggest heart I've ever seen. He was dead tired after two days of fighting but still wanted to know how I was. Now I am dead tired, but what can you do?

Perfect Day

2007-08-14T02:34:00.000+03:00

Today (or is it already yesterday?) was a good day. I managed to do all the things I always wanted to do, but never got round to do them. Then it was a quite afternoon reading and then Rotem called. She finished the first part of her exam period (I finished it last Sunday) and wanted to uncork the Pino Noir she saved for that occasion. Then Herr Graff called and said he is back from Turkey. We went there with the last bottle in Rotem's collection (she leaves at the end of the week, so she wants to get rid of all the things she do not want to take back). I already had enough wine (about a glass) (all those who tried all these years to teach me to drink properly shake their heads) but managed to down a Turkish tea cup (a very small glass) of cab sav. Then somehow, after watching the picture slide show from Graff's visit to Turkey (amazing how much Turkish I learnt this year), a pillow fight started between Rotem and me vs. Assif, scattering around magnets with signs in Chinese (Graff and Assif study Chinese), nearly breaking the telly, the glasses, the bottles and the plates. Graff came out of his room and told us to continue the fight someplace else, so we went to the lawn outside. Assif was not ready to admit he lost, until two guys passed by and commented on his bleeding nose (something Rotem and I pointed out several times to tell him he lost and should quit). Then somehow I lost Rotem and went back home.

Picking Up the Pieces

2007-08-13T09:03:00.000+03:00

Not dead yet, just too self-centred to write something. Waking up these past days was a real challenge. All I wanted to do was to bury myself under the blanket and never wake up. Looking at myself in the mirror was also a big challenge, because as always happens after someone walked all over my ambitions and who I thought I was, it always comes to body image. To add insult to injury, a huge pimple appeared on my upper lip, like a hideous version of Cindy Crawford's beauty mark.

Now I have to think not if I can keep things going, but whether I want to be in a relationship with that person. I'd rather forget about all it and ignore him, but I promised I will think and give an answer. If I will still say I want to be in a relationship, is it not a bit a beaten-wife syndrome, who forgives her husband and blames herself? Can you still say to someone who deflated all your ambitions and made you seem in your own eyes as a lunatic "I love you"? Although a few days passed since we last fought the fury still rages every time I replay his answers in my mind.

Live in a Dream

2007-08-08T12:09:00.001+03:00

Anyone who lived in Jerusalem more than a year must have passed by this house on his way to the theatre, which is just over the corner:

A friend of mine happened to house-sit this house while the owners are away and yesterday he hosted what was supposed to have been posh wine and cheese evening but turned out to be the more fun version of posh wine and eat all the fridge's contents evening. The owners apparently have posh wines only for guests as they do not drink, so we (about fifteen people) drank about a dozen bottles of really good wine. They also have boxes of Leonidas chocolate spread all over the kitchen. The kitchen, by the way, will make any chef happy. Never seen so many utensils in one place. The other rooms are tastefully decorated, since the owners are the art directors or something like that for the Israel museum. The garden is awesome (at least what I saw. It was dark. I am sure that by daylight it is even more delightful).

My initial intention was to stay for about an hour, when I found out that I know only Barak and a girl I know by face, who studies with me IR. Barak introduced us and since then we talked all the time. Her name is Jesse and she is from England. Her accent, among the American accents, was like a breathe of fresh air. She introduced me to two other friends of her, Liz and Andrew. Liz is cool. Andrew reminded me Bren a lot. The same stories about the trolls from the ministry of Interior, the stories about the Christian Embassy, funny anecdotes about people who think he is Jewish and their reaction when they find he is not, and his stories of how hard it is to date in Israel when you are not Jewish. As you can guess my initial intention was not implemented and I stayed until it was fairly late. After all I had to get up for work the day after and take the television from Eyal before he leaves. It was rather hard to leave because when I took my stuff to leave Barak came back after he disappeared (Jesse, Andrew, Liz and I stayed in the kitchen) and joked when he saw Jesse packing her things too that she should not go since he ordered "pizzer" (in a faux-toff accent). Then it really became late and I left.

Now I am exhausted.

Stiff Upper Lip

2007-08-06T13:31:00.000+03:00

It is no secret I am very sad because the Canadian left. All the uncertainties that hovered in the air when he was still here suddenly received additional weight and crashed upon me. I took a friend's advice and talked with the Canadian about it. Did not help, but at least he knows how I feel.

The worst thing is that there is nothing I can do. I will just have to wait until the Canadian comes back. It's killing me.

Apart from that, all is well. I got 84 in War and Politics, which proves I am not completely unsuited for the academia.

Surprise!

2007-08-02T12:32:00.000+03:00

When I came home last night a weird sight met my eyes: the kitchen was clean. No, not clean. Sparkling. I thought that maybe Hanan cooked something and caused such a mess he had to clean the kitchen. Then I went to my room and near the sink in the corridor I saw a strange girl. I thought that maybe she was dorms staff, since it is end of the year and she came to inspect on the rooms people left. "Hello" she said "I am Lauren, your new flat mate". "Hi!" I said. "I'm Rachel, nice to meet you. You cleaned the kitchen?" "Yes," she said. "Why?" she obviously landed a few hours ago. Jet-lag from Britain (Birmingham) is not so bad, so she clearly did not have to find something to do. "I am a neat-freak" she announced and my heart sank. I smell trouble. Neat freaks scare me. Cannot trust someone who cannot cope with a bit of mess. I was taught that a bit of mess shows that people LIVE in the house. Think about the paintings of Jan Stehl. She also plans to study psychology (she just finished high school! God, I feel old), which is rumored that people who do that have problems of their own they try to solve. So, I am a bit apprehensive of my new flat mate. But I hope she will turn out to be a cute girl, even if a bit weird, cleanliness-wise.

And I did it. All the presents I got for my birthday were U2 CDs, the ones I did not have, so my collection is complete.

The birthday festivals are not over. Today when I came to work my work mates told me they plan a department breakfast. Later they told me to come and eat, but it was exactly when Condi and Abbas held a press conference, so I told them I will come when it will be over. They managed to record the rest of the conference for me and dragged me out of the office. All my work mates left the news (a big thing) to throw a little surprise birthday party cum breakfast for me. They even wrote a sign with "happy birthday" in Arabic for me.

As for the press conference, Abbas is a genius. No other word for that. Condoleeza Rice said that the US will give 80 million US dollars aid to Fayyad's government. Then Dr Rice went and signed the agreement. It was a well-staged act to give the finger (no other expression, sorry) to Haniya's government that struggles under international siege. The cool thing is that if Hamas will choose to terrorise either Israel or the West Bank it will be another excuse for the Americans and the EU to give more money to Fayyad and to isolate Haniya and his government further.

A Day Without Me

2007-08-01T02:14:00.000+03:00

Well, it surely was not my birthday. ALL the people I love called/sent an e-mail to me and wished me a happy birthday. It was really strange, being so effortlessly engulfed with love. I whiled the day away studying for my upcoming test in history, but every now and then someone called to wish me a happy birthday. Then I went to my bash, and that was even more fun. Admittedly, we sat there for about five hours, and I drank only two beers, but felt as if I am going to die. I must eat. So, I sat there, dizzy and nauseous, and watched my friends and could not help feeling so happy I know such fabulous people.

If all goes according to my plan, this time tomorrow I shall have all U2's CDs, which is weird, because I do not even define myself as a "fan". Nevertheless, a question for the fan(s) I know reading this blog: where the video clip to "Stay (far away, so close!)" was shot?

Impatient

2007-07-30T14:44:00.000+03:00

Two of my friends called me to wish me a happy birthday, which is awfully nice of them, but my special day is tomorrow. It seems as though my friends are more impatient to celebrate my birthday than I am. It makes me happy.

I finally managed to put the finger on exactly how I feel about the Canadian's departure. I miss all the small things that made up the routine of the Coupledom. Cooking together, sleeping together, talking about things, even small and not important.

Three Witches

2007-07-26T08:59:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I went with two of my friends to watch the new Harry Potter film, but before that my friend Tamar manage to hurt her leg. She sat moaning in her seat, rocking back and forth as if it will ease the pain. My friend Irit did what she always does in such cases and started sending Reiki energy waves to her. Do not laugh! It really works! Suddenly a searing pain attacked my foot. I looked at Tamar and said, pointing at my foot, just below the toes: "does it hurt here?" she looked at me surprised, "yeah" she said, "how do you know?" I replied: "I feel it too". "Sympathy pains, how sweet of you" said Irit. Well, I usually feel slightly sick or in pain when my friends tell me they are sick or in pain, I never knew it has a name.

The film is OK, not so disappointing like the previous films.

PS: Bren (now you do not have a blog I assume I can address you by your name), I hope you did not take my comment on your pic too seriously.

You're Not Alone or: Better Than Chocolate

2007-07-24T21:24:00.000+03:00

As I told a friend this morning (for him it was already evening) my friends have been kind enough to keep me company these past nights. Tonight it was the Canadian's flat mate's turn. He felt a bit lonely because both his flat mates left. So we watched two Seinfeld episodes, the Contest and the Switch. I never really was into Seinfeld, but to watch it with a true fan is a totally new experience. He stopped once in a while and would point out things worth noticing in the coming minutes. I thought it would be weird to go to the Canadian's flat and not finding him there. I guess either I had not stomached the fact he is really gone, or I am too smart not to look for people where they are not supposed to be.

The Canadian's flat mate, Eyal, told me not to worry that my grades are not as high as I would like them to be. He told me it is totally normal to have average and less than average grades, and that next year my grades will jump. I am so relieved! I started fretting I will have to drop out of IR and maybe take another subject, something I really do not want to do.

God, I am so grateful I have such fabulous friends.

Inspired by a Play I Saw Once

2007-07-23T15:32:00.000+03:00

[A whiney post about love, uni life, life in general, work, unbased fears and stress named "Falling to Pieces"].

"Just Ride with It"

2007-07-23T07:51:00.000+03:00

So. The Canadian left. And I already miss him. It is not obsessive longing, but rather I think I hear him come over, and then remember it is impossible. I also had a test yesterday, which made me a bit nervous. On the test itself I was calm, though. The first part was alright, I think. The second part also demanded creativity, which was hard to come by. I wished I could take a little break, grab a cup of coffee and then tackle the question which was to write a short essay about Iran and her will to get nuclear weapons.

My fabulous friends, who sensed there would be a need for company on my first night without the Canadian, took me to the Blue Hole. The owner already recognises me, although he does not know my name yet. In the Hole it was mainly Danny and I cracking IR jokes, and concluding that the test drove us bonkers.

The Canadian left me half his property, so I guess it is in his intention to come back and take his books, CDs, laptop, laptop accessories, blanket, pillow, coat and shirts. My friend Rotem voiced something I could not think about: what if I would meet someone absolutely wonderful while the Canadian is away? (though I do not think this is possible). Then Danny said something very wise: just ride with it. No need to stress over baseless speculations.

I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt I was pregnant. Again, people who believe in messages in dreams will say there is something in it. What struck me as odd in the dream was that my parents did not seem to care.

The Islamic party won the Turkish elections. This development makes me want to study Turkish next year so I can understand what it means and how it will affect Turkey's chances in joining the EU. Farsi is too obvious, i.e., it seems like the next big threat will come from Iran, but Turkey is so interesting and Ottoman history has relevance to the entire region. So I think I will take Turkish. Though Farsi is also cool....It is such a hard choice!

On Democracy, Birthday Drinks and Bon Jovi

2007-07-19T12:54:00.000+03:00

What interesting times! Yesterday Abu Mazen announced that he urges the central committee of the PLO to call for early elections, which actually means HE is calling for early elections. But, no Hamas in these elections. This, of course, made Hamas spokespersons to declare the whole thing illegitimate and say that the movement will vote against Fayyad's government on Sunday, in the PLC's meeting on the subject of the emergency government. This actually separates further the two Palestinian entities. Early elections and a renewd legitimacy to Fayyad's government (the expected result) is all that is needed for the world to completely ignore Hamas (what they are already doing) and intervene in Gaza (violating sovereignty, which does not exist if you do not recognise the entity) and save the people of Gaza from the catastrophe.

Last night (if two hours' sleep suffice as a barrier between "last night" and "today") I went out with friends to a surprise party to a classmate ("one drink. Bolt early" I promised myself). I was in the group that was meant to stall the birthday girl until all arrived in the dorms' pub. It was indeed only one drink, but I did not bolt early. It was too much fun. The conversation span from the acute dilemma of next year: Farsi or Turkish (each has its pros and cons) to other, unrelated matters. On the way back we made a lot of noise bringing up strange words in Arabic and weird proverbs in Yiddish. Simple and Simply fun.

Battle of the century: Bon Jovi vs. U2. My friend and future flat mate is a huge Bon Jovi fan, who also doubles as a minor U2 fan (I borrow from her all the CDs I do not have, and she in turn completes her collection by borrowing from me the CDs she is missing). In my opinion U2 has a very significant advantage over Bon Jovi (and no, AB, it is not the quality of music and/or lyrics) and that is you cannot hold against any U2 member awful 80s' style hairdos. And that's saying something.

Love Bites. Reality Too.

2007-07-17T17:25:00.001+03:00

I went today to visit a friend in his house in Gush Eztion (yes, he is a notorious settler). Quite nice out there. Made me think that maybe I should look for a flat to rent there, since it will be really low rent and there is absolutely magnificent view (if you find someplace that does not overlook the Wall/Fence). And his parrot bit me. B*****d. I hope birds do not have rabies.

Time to stop blabbering and start studying.

Weekly Planner

2007-07-16T19:37:00.000+03:00

Another panic attack because of the test on Sunday and the Canadian's departure on that same day saw me frantically calling one friend, starting a Messenger chat with another and writing a panicky e-mail to a third before realising I act irrationally and deleted the e-mail. Shai, who unfortunately for him picked up the phone actually said (as usual) very wise things. He pointed out that it will take me a few days to realise the Canadian is gone and that there is no need to bring upon me things that may not happen, i.e., fearing I will fail the test because of it. Moreover, he said that the test is a "specific" thing. Meaning, when the test will be in front of me I will think of nothing but the test. Ilya, who unluckily for him was near his computer in my hour of panic, said that I am not someone that is usually dismissed. The Canadian is leaving because of somthing that is not related to me (actually, the Canadian said that I am a major reason he wants to stay here. I am not sure I want that much responsibility for someone else's happiness).

So the coming week seems like much fun. Sunday- a test and then I have a whole week to cry my eyeballs out and befriend the Kleenex.

From an E-mail to a Friend

2007-07-14T19:02:00.001+03:00

A friend asked me a lot of questions about the state of affairs in Gaza, so I wrote him the following words:

The Hamas takeover of Gaza Strip in mid-June divided what was once known as the Palestinian Authority into two ideological groups, each sees itself as the legitimate head of the Palestinian Authority. The West, in order to make it all much easier to understand divided those two groups into two territorial entities, "Fatahland" in the West Bank and "Hamastan" in Gaza.
Reality is much more complicated than that. Hamas, which won the general election in January 2006, sees itself as the legitimate government of the Palestinians and do not recognize the emergency government of Salam Fayyad, which is based in Ramallah. It still recognizes Abbas as Chairman of the Palestinian Authority. Therefore, Hamas was much angered by Abbas' announcement that the residents of Gaza do not have to pay taxes. This decision is not good news for the Palestinians in Gaza, since no payment of taxes means no services such as cleaning the streets and other needed municipal services. Hamas cannot pay for these services itself, because of the international boycott.
Fatah, which lost the election, was given a chance to resume authority in mid-June when Hamas took over Gaza. This step by Hamas revoked the legitimacy of Hamas in its eyes and thus Fatah is the legitimate head of the PA, since it came second in the elections. The emergency government of Fayyad took several steps in order to emphasize the illegitimacy of Hamas. It ceased to recognize passports printed in Gaza and it released the Gazans from taxes, as shown before.
Both factions are still part of the Palestinian Legislative Council (PLC), which is the last arbiter in the question of legitimate rule. Abbas has the right by law to announce a state of emergency and appoint an emergency government, but after a month the PLC decides if the state of emergency continues. The time of decision is now. The first meeting of the PLC was boycotted by Fatah members, because the majority of the Council is Hamas, and the decision is predictable: cancellation of the state of emergency and re-legitimization of the Hamas government. The boycott led to the cancellation of the meeting because there were not enough members of the Council present. Abbas called for a second meeting, scheduled for July 12th. This meeting was boycotted by Hamas because it claimed it is illegitimate for the Chairman of the PA to call a meeting of the PLC, which is a separate body. Now the Palestinians are stuck in a constitutional deadlock, which might lead to the disbanding of the PLC, since both factions see it as a tool of the other faction to destroy its rival.

Another example of the mutual suspicion between the factions came from an unexpected place. In an interview to the official PA television station, owned by Fatah, the director of Aljazeera in Israel (Palestine) was accused of covering more of Gaza than Ramallah, which clearly, in the interviewer's opinion, points a hidden agenda of Aljazeera. The director, Walid Alomari, it must be said, did a remarkable job rejecting these claims.

The West's division of the Palestinian Authority into Fatahland and Hamastan is superficially correct. The citizens of Gaza read "Falasteen" which is a pro-Hamas newspaper, while the citizens of the West Bank read the three big Palestinian dailies: "Alayyam", "Alquds" and "Alhayat Aljadeeda", of these three, the latter is overtly pro-Fatah. A hint to the real state of affairs, which is more complicated than the simplistic division presented above, could be seen in the violent clashes between supporters of Fatah and Hamas in the university of Bir Zeit in Ramallah, which is regarded as the stronghold of Fatah.

One solution to the stalemate could be new general elections. The only problem is how to make Hamas agree. Since it sees itself as the legitimate government, a call for new elections seems to contradict this view. An argument Fatah can use is that new elections are needed as a tool to resume legitimization after the takeover of Gaza. The Palestinians do not really know what to do. Calls for national unity do not seem to work, since each faction wants unity under its own flag.

Dream Brother

2007-07-13T23:15:00.000+03:00

I must be frank. For the first time in a very long time I am scared. Absolutely terrified. July 22nd approaches in giant steps. On this day the Canadian leaves AND I have a huge test. I am not afraid of the test, I am afraid that all the hard work will go down the drain because I will be so sad because of the Canadian's departure. Fear pushes me into dark corners I thought I could never reach and/or thought I will not visit again. I once again long for an older brother/ a close friend. True, close friend(s) are, thank Whoever it is, are a telephone call/e-mail away. But I feel that telling them these fears will be a huge thing to ask, and anyway, I do not want to hear myself whine, so why should they? I know it will help to see anything a rational light, or at least (in case Shai is the selected victim) will make the thing a joke.
This mood causes a whirlpool I know well and prayed I will not face again. Fear leads to hopelessness which causes an unexplained urge to call The Ex, which is impossible, so feelings are directed at another unreachable person, which channels feelings back to the Ex, back to the Unreachable, and I sink in a whirlpool/quicksand, while The National/Jeff Buckley/Leonard Cohen is on the speakers.

Running to Stand Still

2007-07-12T12:51:00.000+03:00

So, my first year in uni ended yesterday (still have to take tests, but formal lessons are over). Thought about doing a retrospective post, but on my way home from my last class for the year yesterday I managed to summarise it in two sentences: "Studied a lot. Looking forward to next year". My first test is Intro to IR, and although it is a huge test, it generates a lot of energy in me that wants to be released as political pieces, since rereading the articles I had to read during the year suddenly make me look on current events via different theories studied in the class, but I do not have the time for those pieces. Maybe it is just a good sign that I learnt something in this class.

I just found out a horrible horrible HORRIBLE thing about the office and I cannot do anything about it (not even leak it to the press). This generates another wave of energy that cannot be used because in order to fix it I have to be twenty years older.

Nearly There

2007-07-10T09:41:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I met some friends. While waiting for the designated time of appointment to arrive I wandered into a CD shop. While looking at various CDs (does anyone know if Tom Waits is good or not? I could not get a straight answer to the question) I realised that my U2 collection is lacking four CDs: October, Zooropa, All that you cannot leave behind and How to dismantle an atomic bomb. Now you know what to get me for my birthday. Hee hee.

All You Need Is Love. Really?

2007-07-08T19:29:00.000+03:00

Judaism and Greek philosophy share the same belief that in the world before this one men and women were one creature and for some reason the two parts of this creature were separated when it arrived to this world. Therefore, Judaism concludes that marriage is the completion of this creature. Two halves that are now a whole. Therefore marriage is a cosmic union of man and woman and has further ramifications other than the permission of marital relations between the two. It is a holy thing.

On the other hand there is the concept of soul mates. I do not know from where this concept came. A soul mate for me is someone that understands you almost instinctively. That only a look or intonation of your voice is enough to tell what really goes on your mind. Sometimes a soul mate can be family member, sometimes the connection is so strong that it is almost as if there is kinship between you and your mate.

If the connection is so strong, should there be secrets or parts that are kept unknown? Should you keep certain pieces of knowledge from your friends? Surely it is insulting to your friend to find out that you kept from him/her something.

A song I heard repeatedly today contains the line "never tell the one you love that you do". Is it good advice? I revealed my heart in a very tactless way last night and thus maybe lost my second half and my soul mate. I hope not, but it seems really hard how it can be remedied. I should not have said what I said (oooh, I can be a great Catholic. Self beating is something I specialise in). But maybe good will come out of it. After all, it is always good to know the truth.

Why couldn't I be satisfied with only one role this person plays in my life and force him to play another? I may lose him altogether. I pray to Whoever that may listen that it will not happen. I care about him too much.

2007-07-08T08:37:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I went out with a friend, that for convenience sake we shall call him Y from now on. We went to a pub two of his friends opened. The theme is good Israeli music. The pub itself is really cool. From the location, to the design to the little details that make your stay there a lot more comfortable. I told Y I think this place is added to the list of places in which I might have my birthday get-together. I guess he did not hear the "maybe" and fetched the owners who were delighted to hear that I want to have my bash there and on the spot booked me the longest table. So if you are around Jerusalem on Tuesday, July 31st, come! It will be nice, I hope.

Y was complaining that it is really hard to sit quietly and drink beer there because all the time people he knows kept on showing up. He also commented that it was not a place for only religious people (i.e. religious settlers). I said to him "speak for yourself" and was rewarded a knowing smile from the other friend-of-a-friend that was around the ever-enlarging table (people Y and his friends know kept showing up, as I said, and all of them joined our table). I thought it would be a boring evening in which I will do nothing but smile and tell people my name and why I am there, until a cool girl named Liora came. She sat across me and after the obligatory name and rank questions she asked "are you religious?" I replied "it is complicated". "Tell me about it!" came the unexpected reply and we whiled the night away discussing the good points and bad points of organised religion and especially Judaism.

Then I did a very stupid thing. I blame the beer, the hour and the increasing pressure of the exams. I hope I did not ruin anything. I had very troubled sleep because of it and slept only three hours. It is going to be a very cafeinated day.

A few hours before that I went with the Canadian to our traditional once in three weeks or so Saturday Tea in the American Colony. Gosh, I like that place. We sat over tea cake and fruit salad and discussed politics. The main point was Liberalism and the difference between theory and philosophy. My interpretation: "imagine you come into a room filled with tables. You can either try to organise them in a pattern, in order to make sense of it all. Otherwise it is just a room filled with tables. That is theory. Philosophy on the other hand is to take the same room and look at it from different aspects. In order to have a good theory, you must be able to say as much as you can about something before you try and organise it in a pattern".

You'd think I do not study with all the time I spend outside.

The day before the Canadian told me that he thinks the stories in the Bible are fiction, fairy tales that are supposed to teach you something. I quite disagreed, but still have to think about it. My first reaction, is as said, disagreement, but maybe he has a point. No one knows how the world was created. Rabbis have one story, scientists another. So this is definitely an interpretation meant to persuade to take a side. But other stories? Cyrus definitely lived and archaeological findings prove that he did give the peoples under his rule religious autonomy. So this definitely happened. But other stories? Is Moses and the parting of the sea fact or fiction, and does it really matter?

On a Similar Note

2007-07-05T08:57:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I went to a concert. I concluded that this is my most favourite form of entertainment (though I do not get to do it much). It started badly, no denying it, but once Mashina came on stage everything improved greatly (I know some people that would strongly disagree).

After the concert my friends and I went to eat ice cream. Instead of each buying a cone we all chipped in and bought one of those huge boxes. We took it to a nearby park, sat on the ground and ate it in what must have been record time. It was soooooooo good. Then we all were sugar-rushed and acted drunkenly, even though there was not a drop of alcohol in our bodies.

...

The reason for the title, is that I would like to add something to what AB wrote in his own blog.

On the humane level I am very happy that Johnston was released, but one must wonder why Johnston was released and not Shalit. After all, the same group held Johnston and still holds Shalit. The reason is, I think, the nature of the deal. The Shalit Deal is your usual prisoner swap. Jeish al-Islam (the captors) is a new group. They do not have people in Israeli jails. If someone would benefit from the Deal it would be either Fatah (how they can pressure a group that is not related to them to release Shalit is beyond me. Maybe Egypt will help) or Hamas (which is unlikely, because the Deal will be a boost for Hamas). Therefore, there is not much chance for a Shalit Deal soon.

The Johnston Deal, on the other hand, is of a different kind. Jeish al-Islam let Johnston go in return for a Fatwa, some personal privileges and, that is the most ominous part in my view: weapons. They said they are going to use it to resist the Occupation. Scary stuff.

Today in the "How Low Can You Go" corner: an article about the release of Alan Johnston by none other than Khaled Mish'al. It appeaered in today's the Guardian. Who else will give terrorists a spot?

Psyche

2007-07-03T17:42:00.000+03:00

Lately I feel as if all that I know is slipping through my fingers like sand. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my first year at uni comes to an end (so soon! It seems as if only yesterday I was losing my way in the campus), or that the Canadian is leaving in a few weeks' time, or that the pressure of the end of term tests starts to get me. Anyway, I feel as though I live in a parallel reality and will up soon. I also have b----y scary dreams lately. Last night I dreamt that my braces (it is not really braces, but a thin metal thingy) came out of its place and was sticking out in a weird way, and I did not know what to do. I woke up startled to find my braces in place. People who insist that dreams have a meaning will find something to say about it.

Like in the first semster, I feel as if I quietly lose my mind. Only this time I lead busy-though-not-crazy lifestyle. At times like these I wish I had an older brother/sister. Two weeks ago my sister crashed in my place to escape the pressure she faced at home to study for her exams. It made me want something like it too. My two "older brother/sister"-type friends are either too busy or live too far to make crashing their place possible.

A bright point: of the two friends that were supposed to come here this Summer, one is actually going to be in the region in the coming months and he might come (we already talked about how he is going to get here). It would be lovely to see him again and talk politics not over Messenger/e-mail.

PS: This time, though, Faith does not come in. I guess I am comfortable enough with the way I see the world and its relation with God, and trust God enough that He will make sure I will pass through this weird period and will emerge after it wiser than I was before.

Night-time of Summer Time

2007-06-29T10:41:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I went to the symphony to the end of the Season concert. As is usually the case with this kind of concerts, the concert was like a box of chocolates in which every piece is absolutely perfect. It was mostly kitschy pieces from famous operas and religious pieces that make you feel as if you slowly start to float above the concert hall. Walking through the balmy night air after the concert was a perfect ending to the night.

Not an Isolated Event

2007-06-28T13:33:00.000+03:00

Since last Saturday night I had other late-night blabbering sessions with my new flatmate. I guess he has a talent to make me blabber because the other discussions were alcohol-free. Last night, for instance, we talked about cricket and other exotic sports like American football. I asked him why Americans like that game so much, considering that there is not much action in it, and he replied "I guess it has something to do with drinking beer during the game". Then we talked about torture techniques (gross, dude!) and exchanged Holocaust jokes and jokes about Iraq.

...

This is a thing I think all religious movements should aspire to embody.

Touche

2007-06-25T17:03:00.000+03:00

Today was a really interesting one in my class of Intro to IR. The prof talked about emotions in the international system. At first it seems irrelevant. Policymakers should not think from their hearts but from their heads, but nonetheless, if you think about it, there are many emotions involved in politics.

After the lecture I asked him if "national character" has anything to do with emotions, or can it predict a policy of a certain country. He stammered and tried to bypass the question, but after I pressed him, he said he never thought about it. At that moment, I thought 'here is my subject for my MA/Ph.D'.
He had a better answer to my question about values, and especially the Christian value of "turning the other cheek" in international politics. He said that turning the other cheek is political suicide. He is a self-proclaimed Constructivist/pacifist and to prove his point he asked me "on what politics in the end are based upon?" the answer is of course "power". This only proves that even the greatest Constructivist cannot ignore the importance of good old neo-realist calculations in international politics.

The Canadian comes back tonight. I never thought I'd miss him so much. Mind you, it is not obsessive longing, but rather, there is a feeling that something is missing and not quite right that he is so far away.

Vino

2007-06-24T13:38:00.000+03:00

My new flat mate, Rahul, came last night after I posted the last post and asked if I will help him finish a bottle of wine. Of course I said yes. He is a really nice guy, patriotic (American, Republican, wants to work in the Diplomatic service in Iraq) and intelligent. I blabbered A LOT. No denying it, but he played along and we talked about how Khaled Mash'al puts makeup for big interviews and how Nasserallah gets really excited sometimes and sweats so much his turban slides off his head.

And I woke up with such a headache, but I had to go to an early class. Interesting experience, though. I hope there will be more of these.

Domestic Insights

2007-06-23T21:13:00.000+03:00

I spent this weekend at my parents' and I had some weird insights. Comparing my life at my parents' and my life today and stuff. I suddenly miss people you usually do not miss. I miss my grandparents (both sets). I miss my Ex's mother. Mind you, not the guy himself. His mother. And I miss two friends of mine. Both of them maybe will come here at some point in the coming months, and I look forward to it.

I am all alone in my dorm room, writing the challenge for AB (see? I did not forget it) and listening to the Rolling Stones. Listening to the National or Leonard Cohen will drive me to dive out of the window, a thing one should avoid at all costs.

The Canadian is currently in England, giving a talk in a conference. His talk, sadly, was not very successful. Only one person showed up. I hope he is not totally devastated.

Not a very eventful weekend, but an interesting one nonetheless.

Retrospective: the Paletinian Civil War

2007-06-21T09:28:00.000+03:00

I wrote this in 2006 and gave it to several people to read. My colleague kept it on her desk and showed it to me a few days ago. She said that my assessment was correct. Yay!

This is what I wrote:

On January 2006 Hamas won the first parliamentary elections in the PA in a decade. But this landslide victory held bitter aftertastes. Most PA official institutions, such as the police, were run by Fatach. Hamas’ refusal to recognize Israel led to an aid embargo which deteriorated the Palestinian society to the brink of a humanitarian catastrophe.

There were clashes over authority between PA chairman, Mahmoud Abbas, and Palestinian PM, Ismayil Haniyah. Those clashes subdued after Abbas called for a 'national dialogue' in which the Palestinian prisoners in Israeli jails offered their solution. The document, nowadays known as the “Prisoners’ Accord” became the basis of the negotiations about a future unity government.

The Hamas government did not live up to its pre-election promises. Hamas promised good governance, bereft of corruption, in the spirit of Islam. It also promised to open Fatach’s corruption files. While Hamas supporters blamed Israel and the US, most Palestinians blamed the government for not doing what is expected from it.

Moreover, it seemed as though the Hamas government is not in control, but rather, is ruled by the Hamas leadership in Damascus. The kidnapping of Cpl. Gilad Shalit highlighted this lack of control. In the press conference after the kidnap, government spokesperson, Dr Ghazi Hamad, begged the kidnappers to treat the soldier well.

After the conflict on Israel’s northern border came to a halt, Abbas and Haniyah adopted the idea of a unity government and started negotiations.

Shortly before Abbas’ speech in the UN General Assembly in New York on October 4, a draft for a unity government was reached. While Abbas was in New York Haniyah backed away from the draft. Negotiations about a unity government resumed, with some suspicion, after Abbas returned from New York.

On Sunday, October 1, the police joined the general strike of PA workers that started in early September. As a result, the minister of interior affairs, Said Siam, deployed the ‘special force’ of the ministry in Gaza.

This sparked the dormant conflict between the police and the ‘special force’, or if you like, re-ignited the armed conflict between Hamas and Fatach about authority in the PA.

Right now negotiations about a unity government seem stalled. Even if some progress will be achieved, there is still the issue of Hamas’ recognition of Israel.
Palestinian PM, Ismayil Haniyah, said in the past that he agrees to recognize Israel only in matters of mundane necessities, such as road-blocks, cross-borders and economy. Such progress, however welcome, sure will meet opposition from Hamas leadership in Damascus. If Haniyah will insist on such recognition of Israel, it will ultimately lead to a tear in Hamas and maybe even division within the movement’s ranks. Haniyah will not gain much support on his own, for most Hamas members are loyal to the Damascus leadership.

Moreover, Hamas resents negotiation with Fatach after its military wing threatened to kill Hamas officials. Fatach actually was true to its word. 24 hours after the threat was issued a Hamas commander in Qalqilia was assassinated by anonymous gunmen.

While Abbas tries desperately to revive the unity government negotiations, many Fatach members call on him to exercise his constitutional rights and disassemble the Legislative Council. Abbas will not exercise those rights for he does not wish to add petrol to the flame of the dispute about authority in the PA.

New elections will shake the fragile Palestinian unity. This insistence on unity actually weakens the Palestinians, for it means they lean on the lowest common denominator. It is more likely that the fragile Palestinian unity will break and the clashes will turn into a full-blown civil war.

On a similar note, the emergency Palestinian government said that from today it ceases to recognise travel passages issued in Gaza and that it will issue its own travel documents. It is by-the-book state building: defining a territory and creating a sense of "us" against "them".

I just saw this on Aljazeera. It is so depressing. The world sometimes seem like a very bleak place.

Don't You Have Something More Important to Worry about?

2007-06-19T17:10:00.000+03:00

I lately helped start a "students for the refugees from Darfur" group. True, there is not much to do. Some of the refugees arrived in Israel God knows how, and now are either in jail or in kibbutzim, but they cannot leave the grounds, since they do not have a formal status here.
It is rather hard for Israel to give them permanent status because Sudan in considered a "hostile state".

Every time I talk with my friends about the group, and ask them if they would come to the demonstration they gape at me and ask if I do not have more important things to do, or, if I want to help poor people, there are plenty problems right here in Israel, there is no need to go as far as Sudan.

Well, theoretically they are right. There is a Talmudic proverb (I think) that goes something like: "between poor people of your city and poor people of another city, the poor people of your city come first". But it seems that no one cares about the refugees from Sudan, and if I, by doing something as small as handing out pamphlets to the demonstration can cause a small change, like giving the refugees in Israel a temporary status, I think I made some change in this world and can die peacefully.

PMS

2007-06-15T15:06:00.000+03:00

It is almost taboo to write about it, no?

In the week preceding "my time" I have horrible migraines. I cannot think. I cannot stand people who talk too slow, walk too slow, talk too loud. I cannot stand the quiet of my room. I cannot stand the choice of music on my computer (although it was compiled by me). On those weeks I am more out than in. I drink thrice the usual amount of coffee I usually imbibe.

Today is one of these days. I chose the Coffee Mill in the German Colony as my "study", the source of comforting white noise, required for finishing the deposition Kissinger gave to the Congress on Detente. I ate several hours ago, so I wolfed my croissant. Two minutes later he came. "Would you care to order?" he said with a stiff English accent. He looked on the verge of punk, but the accent fitted a stiff upper lip butler. I named him in my heart "Jeeves". I looked puzzled, so he said kindly but stiffly "would you need more time?" "No," I replied "I would like another coffee please". A second cup in ten minutes. This is a new record of coffee-intaking. When he came back with my cup I asked him kindly "from which part of England are you?" "It comes with the moon" he said. "He must be very proud that someone actually thought he was English" I thought, making sure to drink this one very slowly and not give him an excuse to bug me.
"Is this seat taken?" a shrill, American accent said. I looked up and saw a small woman with several shopping bags. "No" I said. "Would you mind if I sit here?" she asked "No" I said again. She sat and started talking about all kinds of boring things, like the crafts market that was supposed to be across the street but apparently was canceled (Duh! The yard is empty!) and the demonstration outside about the national problem called Qassams.

The deposition was shorter than expected, so I was relieved of the company of the American and Jeeves quicker than predicted. Now I am back home and my mind blows. I miss the noise Korin the flat mate used to generate. I hated the mess she left, but she was noisy and messy and this is what I need now. Oh, my head!

Don't Let the World Get You Down

2007-06-14T15:25:00.000+03:00

Since I saw those awful images on Aljazeera I am really depressed. I want to cry. So much suffering, for what?

The Sky Falls

2007-06-14T11:07:00.000+03:00

One of the great philosophers of modern time reached the great sentence "cogito ergo sum" after doubting everything and trying to find one solid spot in this world. Applying the same method, I projected this on one of Judaism's greatest taboos: un-kosher food. Not accepting what the various interpreters of the Bible or those who try to show that keeping kosher is good for you said, I casted all these aside and tried to understand the rationale behind the rules myself. My conclusions: "mixing" meat and dairy makes me nauseous. Sea food tastes like fish. Hence, keeping kosher is keeping away from nausea. A good deal, I think.

The Anarchy in Gaza reached new heights. I watched today in Aljazeera how a peaceful demonstration calling to stop the killing became a bloodbath. At first you see a peaceful demonstration with signs saying "stop the killing". Then, out of nowhere, three or four gunmen appear and start shooting the demonstrators. When it was just Fatah gunmen vs. Hamas gunmen, I did not care much. But now normal people are forced into this whirlpool.
Tears actually streamed down my face when I saw the images on Aljazeera.

Abbas is about to come out with a "dramatic announcement" soon. I look forward to it.