My brother is basically prophetic

Last night my brother gave us all gifts. First he gave us the gifts he saved from his trip to Germany over the summer. He got me a very cute little messenger-style bag, and I was very pleased.

Then he whipped out our presents that he got us from Israel, which he bought on Friday. Mind you, this was a day before the operation started. What was the gift I received? A poster of soldiers in front of the Western Wall, with the words to the prayer for the IDF. ....how appropriate

The Nazi is a mythical creature

So I just read in the news that some Iranian politician likened Israel to the Nazis. Which immediately made me stop and ask myself, "Wait, aren't Iranian politicians Holocaust deniers?"

If there was no Holocaust, then basically what this guy was doing was actually comparing Israel to a mythical creature. Nazis don't exist, they're like leprechauns or unicorns or Rumplestiltskin. So when some guy from Iran calls my country a bunch of Nazis, I get a little confused. Wait, do you mean that we're a bunch of little green men with pots of gold, that we're beautiful horses with magical powers, or that we're little men with strange names? Ah! Must be the last one. Most Avi's aren't very tall.

Jeez, man from Iran, tell me something I DON'T know!

milchama

Well, I'm not really sure what to say..... anyone who is reading this is probably well aware that, to put it mildly, shit is going on in the Gaza Strip.

To answer some questions that I've been getting from family members and friends today:
1) Are you more scared to go to Israel now? Yes.*
2) Are you still going to go to Israel? Yes.

*Perhaps "scared" is incorrect. I would say "more concerned than before."

Anyway, I don't have much else to say. In the meantime, send some good thoughts Israel's way.
http://www.shefanetwork.org/GateWays/Prayer%20for%20the%20State%20of%20Israel.JPG

(can't get pretty link-age to work, so just copy/paste)

Jew goes to church

Tonight I went to church for the first time in my life-okay, clarification: I have walked into churches all over Europe (and even a church in Haifa!) and I have been to one Catholic wedding in my life. But an actual service? No.

So tonight I went with my friend from high school who is also not Christian, but who regularly goes to Catholic church. I felt like I kind of had to go since in a little less than a month I'll be a citizen of a Jewish country. This was my last Christmas as a citizen solely of a Christian country, so I figured I might as well see what Christmas Midnight Mass is all about before I leave.

Maybe other Jews reading this will disagree, but as a Jew in America I always felt like the Christians of the US probably look at us as kind of strange people. Our services are probably weird to them. Of course, to me, Jewish services are normal....but I was convinced that to Christians we must seem like total weirdos. And I was also completely convinced that if I went to a Christian service at any time, I would immediately say to myself, "Ohhhhh, NOW I understand why they think we're weird--because they're so normal!"

But tonight--Oh. My. G-d. IT WAS SO WEIRD! There was this procession of these men in white robes, and the cardinal or the bishop or the somebody of LA walked in wearing a pope hat (and underneath it he was wearing a yarmulke-looking thing) and carrying this curvy staff.....there seemed to be a great deal of candle-shuffling during the readings from the scriptures.... at some point there was an actual offering left at the altar, with incense and all....at one point we all had to turn to our neighbor and like hug or shake hands....THEY PASSED BASKETS DOWN THE PEWS FOR MONEY!!!!!!!..I....I....I was so confused!

Having only been to Jewish services in my life, I was so convinced that there was this whole "normal" bit of the world that I was missing out on....but it turns out that that "normal" bit of the world is SO STRANGE! I mean, to me at least.
I'm not being critical of it as a religion--I think all religions are weird, including my own. I'm just saying that I feel like such an idiot for treating Christianity/Catholicism as the standard-bearer for normality in a religion....and after 20 years I finally figure out that it's just as bizarre as any other religion.


During a couple parts of the service, the cardinal or bishop or priest or whatever (hahaha, for all I know it was the pope himself! had the entire congregation pray for people who don't believe in Jesus. I had heard a little while back that the pope decided to put those prayers back in, and it pissed me off a bit, but eventually I didn't really give a shit. But OH how different I felt about it tonight!
Now, mind you, tonight I was a Jew sitting in the LARGEST cathedral in Los Angeles, surrounded by hundreds, maybe a couple thousand, Catholics. And now they were all praying for my soul. I'm not gonna lie, I was seriously uncomfortable. I wanted to shriek at everyone, "I DON'T WANT YOUR FUCKING PITY PRAYERS!"
But as I told Abraham, if this pope is going to insist on praying for me even though I don't want him to, I'll be sure to put in a good word for him with G-d during Friday night Maariv.

A Summary Of What It's Like To Sit Next To A 10 Year Old At Dinner

(my apologies for the flood of posts).

HERE is what it's like to sit next to a 10 year old (cousin) at dinner, in short:

"Hi!!!!!! So this one time this really funny thing happened when I was with my sisters and these people who you've never met but whose names I'm going to use anyway as if you know them--but before I finish that anecdote, let me first get completely distracted and end up summarizing three movies that I recently saw. Actually, summarizing would be incorrect of me to say, rather I'm going to tell you about three movies in excruciating detail, to the point where you feel like you've actually seen these three terrible movies that you thought were so bad that when they were actually in theaters you decided against paying to see them. After I'm done giving you a shot-by-shot analysis of exactly what the plot is in these films, I'll switch subjects to the boy I have a crush on. I won't actually explain to you that I have a crush on this boy, instead I'll just use his name as if you know him personally, and I'll tell you in great detail about how we pass notes and throw pieces of paper at each other. Then I'm going to switch to a couple seconds of picking at my food in silence.....which I'll then interrupt when I remember that I still haven't finished my original story about my sisters and me and our friends, whose names and distinct personalities you've now completely forgotten thus rendering you completely confused and hopelessly treading water in this sea of information. By this point though, dinner is through, so I promise to finish my story when I see you at Christmas, at which point you'll tell me that you forgot how the story started, so I'll have to start this whole process ALLLLLLL the way from the beginning, making sure that you will never hear the end of the original anecdote."


Hhahaha, I love my cousins.....

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE!

Did you know that the First Lady of Iceland is an Israeli Jew? WHAT?!?!??! HOW WEIRD!

Well, exciting news! I got a ride to the airport! My parents are going to be out of town when I finally leave LA, so I was going to have to take a taxi....... But my "family" across the street has offered me a ride, which is especially nice when you consider that they are totally anti-Israel (and, by that same token, against Jewish immigration there)

Stories for Grandchildren.

So since my uncle's been here, I've been hearing tons of stories about all the crazy shit my grandpa used to do. My mom is less eager to share stories, but she did say of my grandma, "When I was a teenager, she used to do embarrassing things in public just to see my reaction...." which made me think, for the first time in my life, that I"m clearly related to this woman. When I'm a mother, I'm definitely going to be intentionally embarrassing my children just cos I have nothing better to do. And then when I'm a grandma I'm going to unintentionally embarrass my family by flirting with waiters less than 1/3 of my age. Aw grandma..... :-)

So anyway, my uncle is telling stories about my grandpa's youth. A couple I've heard from him before, such as the story he told me last year when I was visiting him in San Francisco. Apparently my grandpa was a merchant marine (this was new to me) and was sleeping on deck during a storm in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night, and a huge wave came and bucked him off the ship. He managed to grab the last possible railing on the edge of the ship, saving himself by clinging on for dear life. Eventually he managed to pull himself back onto the ship in the middle of this storm.

When my brother and I heard this, we looked at each other and said, "WHY THE HELL DIDN'T GRANDPA BOTHER MENTIONING THIS TO US?"

And I still wonder that. I love my grandpa, but he's an older fella now. I grew up knowing nothing about him, and now I'm only learning about him through my uncle's love of telling stories--and I only see that uncle once every couple years.

Tonight at dinner my uncle shared a different story about my grandpa, about how he got shot at in Indonesia. Apparently there was some sort of civil war or something going on when he stopped there with the merchant marine boat, and they all got shot at and narrowly escaped. I'm not doing justice to the story, but just trust me that it's kind of awesome.

It's just been weird taking in these stories and such, and it makes me wonder what my grandkids would know about me. I feel like I would be much more eager to freely volunteer information and stories, unlike my grandpa who never told stories but rather explained scientific principles, like why you can get liquid to stick in a straw if you put your finger at the top. Come to think of it, pretty much whatever shred of understanding I have of science is thanks to my grandpa. But I know nothing about him as a person.

As for me, I'd want to tell my grandchildren about how this one time I folded laundry on a kibbutz, and how I got mooned by an orthodox jew just outside of Jerusalem, and how this one time in Los Angeles on Venice Blvd I almost ran over a midget dressed as a cowboy riding a unicycle. I want them to know that I supported Welsh independence, and was a card-carrying member of Plaid Cymru, a Welsh political party. If my grandchildren are Israeli, I want them to laugh at what an idiot I am when I tell them that when I first rode Israeli busses I was shocked that drivers give passengers change AND a ticket! Or that when I first got to Israel I couldn't figure out why everyone was playing ping pong on the beach without paddles.

And they'll totally be bored, and they'll whine about how my stories are boring. But I'll yell, "I'm your goddamn grandma, so you better listen anyway!" Because I don't want them to know about me because their uncle told them when they were 20, I want them to know because I told them. Because that's just sad.

Sex and farts.

So my uncle drove down from Northern California today to visit my grandparents (his parents, duh!), and he's staying next to my room in my brother's room (the brother who is in Israel at the moment). And right now I'm hyper-aware of all the little noises I make that I normally don't notice. For example, when I shift in my chair, it sounds like I'm ripping loud, wet farts. And I'm a fidget, so I make that noise a lot. It's VERY loud and you can definitely hear it from down the hall. When it's just one of my brothers down the hall, I don't particularly care that they think I'm farting up a storm because they are my brothers, and farts are not only welcome in my immediate family but actually sources of pride. So right now my uncle probably thinks I have severe intestinal issues.

Also, my bed is broken. Once in 9th grade a bunch of friends were over and they all sat on my bed and......well, now my bed is broken. So basically now whenever you lie in my bed and you cough, shift slightly, or even just breathe, the springs go SQUEAKY SQUEAKY! It basically sounds like someone is having angry and enthusiastic sex in my bed, but really someone's just breathing shallowly. Everyone in my immediate family is aware of this and knows that I'm not doing something dirty in my bed, but an infrequent guest does not know this.....

ALSO: I talk in my sleep. Sometimes very loudly.


I'm going to be quite red in the face tomorrow at breakast.

Nothing too exciting to report on the aliyah front. Just playing the waiting game. But as far as games go, this one's pretty boring.

I decided to go online and listen to galgalatz and found that I can also look in on the studio, so I thought that'd be cool. It actually wasn't that cool. Basically all you see is a couple of girl soldiers sitting around, looking bored, occasionally doodling or going on the computer in the studio, and one of them had a lollipop in her mouth. It was actually rather funny to watch


Also, tonight at the deli my grandma took one look at the waiter and said, "I'm old, so I'm allowed to say this: you are the best looking waiter I've ever had!"

HAHAHAH......oh grandma.....I couldn't stop laughing, turned bright red, and couldn't make eye contact with the waiter for the rest of the evening.

Brigadoon Reference # 87

We had some really heavy rain here in LA over last night and today. I'm peering out my window at the moment and it's really starting to clear up quite a bit right about now, but off in the distance you can see some low clouds floating over LA, covering up the view of the Hollywood sign off in the distance, and generally giving off the impression that LA is this mystical, mysterious place. Partially obscured, foggy..... It's almost like Brigadoon.

Then again, I can turn anything into a Brigadoon reference.

What's in a name? A whole lotta stress...

I'm in a bit of a pickle. No, I'm not talking about dealing with parental reactions to my impending aliyah (Mom's okay with it now, Dad's still pissed and bribing me to go anywhere else in the world.)

I am, of course, talking about the name-change issue. Well, it's not really an issue, but rather an option.

I was considering changing my name to some Israeli name that starts with a Samech or Sin, but I figured that that'd be disrespectful to my parents and also it'd be really embarrassing to not be able to pronounce my own name correctly.

If I change it to Sammy סמי I'm going to have the problem of my legal name being a boy's name. It's bad enough now when people see "Sam" on paper and assume I have a penis, but now I won't have the luxury of being able to point out, "Well, technically it's Samantha."
The other problem though is that Sammy, as pronounced by Israelis (at least the ones I've met), sounds almost exactly like "Semi." Which, of course, makes me think of trucks. I don't think Israelis will make the connection, but I don't want to think of myself as a type of truck trailer any time someone calls my name for the rest of my life.

What's wrong with keeping my legal name "Samantha," you ask? Well, the problem is that Israelis constantly spell it incorrectly, with a tet, because they don't understand that the "th" isn't pronounced TAH. So for the rest of my life people are going to be calling out my name, like if they're taking attendance or if I'm in a waiting room of some kind, and they're going to say, "SemenTAH?" Which would start to piss me off after a lifetime of that. And which, of course, brings up the other issue with remaining a legal Samantha, which is that when you transliterate how Israelis say your name, it looks like "Semen" is in your name, which is just gross.

Well, as I said once before in Israel, I really should just save myself a whole lot of trouble and change my name into a single letter, kind of like an extreme form of Cher's simple name.

More later,

ס

Moment of the Day:

My mother walks into my room and sees that my laptop is on my lap.

Mom: "Nooooooo! You can't put your computer on your lap!"

Sam: "Whatever, Mom, I usually have it on my desk, but I just wanna lean back on my rocking chair so I can't with it on the d---"

Mom: "IT'LL MAKE YOU INFERTILE!"

Just gotta say: most politicians are corrupt, but if you attract enough attention with your misdeeds to warrant getting arrested.....DAMN son!

also, i think Oprah can be as fat as she goddamn wants and I don't give a shit. 200 pounds? Whatever. A ton? Good for her. She's still a rainbow of wonderfulness

Sam's Suitcase's Holy Land Tour

So, as I probably mentioned at some point, I lost my suitcase in Israel the first time I went there. (December 2007).


And to this day, a full year later, I find myself wondering during quiet moments, "Where the hell IS my suitcase?" This really does interest me. Was it blown up almost immediately? Was it placed on a different tour bus and then discovered and THEN blown up? Is it in some storage room somewhere in Israel?

Is my suitcase somehow still touring the country, carrying on my work?

This is what occupies the empty space in my brain when I'm alone in my room, or at a movie, or in class. I get bored and I start imagining possible things that happened to my suitcase.

When I return to Israel, I intend to make finding out my suitcase's fate my mission. I mean, apart from the fact that I had a few sweaters in there that I really liked that I'd like to get back, my main interest here is just curiosity-driven.

Crap. Am now leaning towards doing Ulpan Etzion in Jerusalem since that way I have fewer things to worry about, and also because it seems like I'll have an easier time getting my parents on board with that since it's a more academic-focused thing....and just a more focused thing in general in comparison to "I'm gonna go to haifa and eventually find housing and work, and maybe do some hebrew classes...."

Also, I think part of me just needs to accept a bit of help. For example, I didn't do a nefesh b'nefesh flight cos I wanted to be independent. That's no big deal, but when it comes to long-term living arrangements I need to be willing to go the easy route.


ALSO: I keep having nightmares about my arrival in Israel. I keep having dreams that I got into a taxi at the airport and ended up at my chosen destination in the country (some dreams it's been Haifa, others it's Jerusalem)....and then I realize that I forgot to go through the process at the airport for olim. So then I realize that I'm not an olah, and that I'm totally fucked. And then I wake up. Seriously, I've had this dream four times now.

I just got stir-fry downstairs.....I'm so glad that that was probably the last time I'm getting stir-fry at my dorm's cafeteria. It's really tasty, but I swear that the smell gets into my clothing. Like, I go downstairs and my clothing smells like laundry detergent, or at worse like my signature smell (whatever that is....everyone has a signature smell. Signature BO), and then on the way back up the stairs after eating stir fry my shirt smells like onions and teriyaki sauce. I seriously don't understand. I understand that my breath would smell weird, or that maybe my hands might a little bit. But my shirt? I don't get it. I didn't spill on my shirt, but somehow my shirt always ends up smelling like someone stir-fried it.

Anyway, aliyah related update: I did end up getting into the ulpan/apartment combo in Jerusalem. I'm thinking of continuing with my plans to go up north though. I liked the north because, unlike in Jerusalem, I didn't feel like I was surrounded by American pilgrims. I actually heard Hebrew up there, and people were a lot nicer about letting me get a chance to try out my Hebrew. Of course, this complicates things because up north I don't have any set plans--my plan is to go to a hostel and stay there until I find a cheap apartment. And then hopefully work and ulpan will fall in line. Based on my internet research that shouldn't be too difficult, but we'll see what real life brings.....

A happy development.

Hadn't spoken to my mom in three days, and my dad in almost a week--this is pretty weird for me, since normally I hear from my parents every other day. Where we last left off, my parents were furious. Absolutely pissed with me.

Tonight I called my mom back after she called me while I was with a friend--and now she's all totally happy with me. When she originally called me, she sounded angry with me. But I called back and suddenly she was happy..... WEIRD

We were talking about me withdrawing from university, this time as a fact rather than as an abstract thing that she is trying to prevent from happening. They even cracked a joke about my leaving--I said that the lady at the university office told me that there was absolutely no problem with my withdrawing. And then my dad lets out a hearty, Santa-like chuckle and says, "Heh, well at least you've got HER permission!"

I'm thinking they're trying to be extra nice to me to prevent me from leaving. I think they realized that their being angry only makes it easier for me to leave, because I don't want to be around people who "hate" me. Or maybe they're realizing that if I leave university for Israel, they can retire MUCH earlier. For whatever reason they're being nice suddenly, I'm glad. I feel a lot less stressed--now the only thing I'm stressing over is whether or not experiencing their niceness at home or a month is gonna convince me to stay!

I'm also afraid that maybe this is some ploy to get me to let my guard down. Aw fuck it, why be paranoid

You know what really pisses me off about Harry Potter? I mean, I love the books and everything, but what the hell is wrong with Harry? Seriously, if I knew some dark wizard was out to get me, I'd put a little bit more effort into my magical education. But no, he totally slacks off and relies on his nerdy little lady friend to know the hell he should do. Like seriously, Harry Potter, learn to do a fucking potion once in a while, or read a fucking book every now and then.

How come Shakespeare's plays are never staged to take place in the time periods and settings that Shakespeare intended? That never happens anymore... Nowadays you have to stage Hamlet in the stone age, or Henry V in some futuristic space battle place, or Romeo and Juliet have to be teenagers in the Canada Fur Wars of 1764 (okay, I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as "Canada Fur Wars of 1764, but you get my point).

Weirdos from the kibbutz revisited

So this weirdo I know from the kibbutz ("weirdo from the kibbutz"? that narrows things down...) sends me an IM on facebook. Conversations goes a little like this:

Person: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Person: 'sup?
Me: Nothing. What's new with you?
Person: ....nm......still engaged

I figured that was my cue to show polite interest, so I wrote back something like, "Oh, congrats, to who?" and figured the happy groom-to-be would be glad to tell me a little bit about this person, like how he knows her or what her name is or whatever. I naturally assumed I wouldn't know the person, but I figured my asking would elicit some kind of basic descriptive response on the part of said girl's future husband. But no.

Me: Oh, congrats, to who?
Person: A girl.


And that was the end of the conversation. I'm sorry, here's my problem with this conversation:

1) Don't IM me, don't e-mail me, or don't call me unless you actually want to have a conversation. A simple transaction of information ("I'm engaged to a girl.") is not a sufficient reason to contact me. Don't talk to me unless you want to analyze shit and go into interesting detail, or at least moderately interesting detail.

2) Specifically, if you're going around IMing or calling or whatevering people you barely know to tell them that you've gotten engaged, you should be prepared to say more about your fiancee than just she's "a girl." Wow. Real informative, dipwad.
If you say you're getting married to someone, they should inspire more of a reaction in your heart than just she's "a girl," unless of course you're simply making the whole thing up. If your significant other is fictional, "she's a girl" is actually a relatively detailed response.

Is Reading Week All That Stressful? Sam live-blogs.

Well, if you're the person down the hall from me then the answer is "Yes. Oh G-d Yes."

I came back to my dorm a few minutes ago and I heard what I thought was a saxophone squeaking. "Dang, this is annoying," I thought to myself, but wasn't concerned. But after the continuous saxophone shrieking continued for a full 5 minutes, I began to get concerned.

I went out into the hall and saw that a small crowd had gathered. By now the sax squeak has turned into full-blown yells of bloody murder, which my neighbor was able to sustain for minutes at a time. Eventually the screaming grew weaker and turned into a sort of sad and angry moan, with occasional bursts of all-out shrieking.

Finally we decided to knock on the door and ask if there was something any of could do to help....and the screaming/moaning stopped instantly. You could tell she was just sitting in silence waiting for us to go away. We waited a few minutes in the silence, then knocked again. And still no response. So we had no choice but to walk away.

.....

She's stopped screaming now, instead relying upon brief intermittent shrieks to let out her frustration. Occasionally I'm hearing squeaks that sound like some kind of Peruvian jungle monkey, if such a creature exists. And sometimes she sounds like crow, you know, going "CAW! CAW!" or whatever.

Ah, wait, no, the screaming is continuing. And now it sounds like she's throwing heavy objects at the walls. A couple of us out in the halls wonder if she's just having particularly loud sex. We can hear her typing though, so we know it's probably schoolwork related.

....

Finally we've tracked down a CA who knocks on her door, but again the screamer falls silent. He waits outside the door, saying weakly, "You know, I'm a CA so you should open the door.....yeah....." but the girl just waits in silence for the CA to go away. Which he eventually does.

And then the silence is broken yet again, this time by short bursts of profanity. "FUUUUUUCK!" she yells at the top of her lungs, so loudly that I bet people in Tokyo are wondering what the hell is going on. Then there's utter silence or a couple minutes. Then suddenly I hear a large object being thrown against the wall, and then, "SHIIIIIIIIT! DAMN IT!" And then the room falls silent again, except for the sound of a paper being typed.

Holy fuck, the cops are now in the hallway. There are POLICE OFFICERS IN MY HALLWAY!


----

So I heard the cops talking to the girl, who was sobbing, and apparently this is indeed a case of stress.

---

Okay, just got back upstairs from dinner, and on the way up the stairs I saw they had a friggin STRETCHER in the lobby, and that basically half of the town's fire department and paramedics are outside. I think they're taking the girl to the hospital.

All this cos of finals...

---

She's now arguing with the cops, she refuses to go to the hospital, they're calling for back-up....... you can HEAR the crazy in her voice. She's calling wildly for the police to sign a form that she wrote up, which they refuse. Finally they said, "What day of the week is it?" And she thought for a moment and said, "Wednesday."

It's Thursday.

---

Holy fuck, 5 paramedics just came running down our hall, and now they're dragging her out of her room by her arms.

--

OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!

I know some people I don't know read this blog, and I don't know if any of them are considering aliyah....but if you are, just know one thing:

I can tell you from experience that dealing with your family's reaction is going to suck. It just is.



People told me that my family would be more prepared for this "second" aliyah of mine....well, they wouldn't. And, in fact, the reaction from my parents is so negative this time that I'm seriously considering staying with friends for the month that I'll be in LA.

If you go back and read the archives on this blog and see how many references I make to crying, it might surprise you to hear that I'm actually not much of a crier. For example, one of my closest friends of the past 8 years has seen me cry all of once. And her response throughout the whole ordeal? "Oh my G-d.....oh my G-d....I've never seen you cry before! Oh my G-d.....!"

But basically the past 24 hours have been a cry fest. Just sitting in my room? Yup, I'm crying. Taking a shower? Yup, you betcha, I'm crying. Last night I tried watching "Bridget Jones" which was my "I had a bad day" movie in high school and....indeed, I was crying again.

I figured I'd get out of my room today and see a movie, and I picked "Australia." Usually during emotional movies my eyes might tear up a bit or something, but that's about it. Today though, for almost a full three hours I was crying. Thank G-d it was an empty matinee.

A new low for me though? Yes, I actually cried THROUGH THE FUCKING TRAILERS! No, the trailers were not particularly sad. It was more like, "Oh my gaa-aaaaaaadd, [*sob*] they have a [*sniff*] do-o-o-o-g!!!!! [*bawl*] And its name [*choke*] is [*sob*] Marle-hee-heeeeeeeee!!!!!"


Well, speaking of "Australia," I thought it had its flaws, but otherwise was just the kind of movie I wanted to see today. My big problem though is that I always associate Hugh Jackman with "Oklahoma!" See, in "X-Men" the urge to picture Wolverine bursting out and singing the title song is not as strong, since "X-Men" has little in common with "Oklahoma!" In fact, when I first found out that the guys from "Oklahoma!" and "X-Men" were the same guy, I totally didn't believe it. Wolverine is much too hairy.
Unfortunately for "Australia," the atmosphere of "Oklahoma!" is very similar. You know, country folk and cattle from an earlier time. So basically the entire film I was waiting for Hugh Jackman to start singing "Oh What a Beautiful Morning!"



....which, surprise surprise, never happened. So in the sense that Hugh Jackman never burst into a Rodgers and Hammerstein inspired musical number, "Australia" was extremely disappointing. But in the sense that the movie was 3 hours of a scruffy cowboy with a sexy accent walking around and doing things....the movie totally delivered.

But that scruffiness was another problem. If its cowboy-ish-ness made the film seem too much like "Oklahoma!" then the fact that Hugh Jackman was unbelievably filthy and hairy for the vast majority of the film made "Australia" too much like "X-Men." To the point where I was afraid Hugh Jackman's claws were suddenly going to spring out and slice up poor Nicole Kidman and totally destroy the romantic aspects of the film.

So, for better or for worse, Hugh Jackman never burst into song and never extended his claws. But go see the movie.

Let's play guess what the hell this says in Hebrew

Was reading the "רכילות" section of ynet when I came across this caption:

וואן ביג הפי פמילי

And for a solid minute I kept trying to sound it out to no avail. And FINALLY it dawned on me:

One Big Happy Family!


Jeez, you'd think reading transliterated English would be easier than actual Hebrew, but NO!

I now have a visa, a flight, and I'm no longer a college student (starting next week). AND MY PARENTS KNOW.

Turns out the ulpan in Jerusalem is full, which is actually good news for me since I didn't want to live in Jerusalem in the first place--the aliyah center lady just sort of decided I should go there. So now I'm thinking of going to Haifa, my fantasy city on a hill, and finding a room, and......WHAT COMES NEXT?!?!?!?!

HOLY FUCKING BALLS THIS IS EXCITING!

"Nothing good can come of this!" --dad

"Did it ever occur to you that it sucks to live in Israel so THAT'S why they're gonna pay you for immigrating?! I mean, WE got people climbing the fucking fences to get in." --dad

BOKER TOV, CHICAGO!

I will say, as much as I hate Chicago and its weather.......there's is absolutely nothing like going to sleep when it's rainy and ugly out only to wake up and find that it is COMPLETELY white and snowy outside. Beautiful! Unfortunately, I have to walk through it this morning and drive through it this afternoon, so the beauty is short-lived.

Giving Fanks

Cousin 1: We had a duck until it got too big for the fish tank.
Cousin 2: Its head was sticking out over the top!
Cousin 1: IT WAS SO SCARY!!!

Also great was when my great aunt came into the house and said to everyone quite cheerfully: "HAPPY CHANUKAH!!! ....oh shit!"

ALSO great was when my grandma came in, took one look at my Catholic brother's Catholic fiancee and before saying anything else says, "You look Jewish."

Hahahha, I love Thanksgiving.

1) I got a visa! Now all I gotta do is set foot in Israel and I automatically get citizenship!
2) Does anyone else not give a shit about that astronaut's tool bag that was lost?

Tomorrow I get to to go the Israeli consulate to apply for a visa! And once that's in my passport, all I got to do is show up in Israel and I get citizenship!!!

Also, I was told that tomorrow I'll find out whether or not I get to live in Jerusalem (in an absorption center) or whether I have to look for lodging in a different city. STAY TUNED!

I just had the weirdest dream. I was back in Israel, back on the kibbutz....except the laundry room was now outdoors. And it was pouring rain, so we were all wearing raincoats in the laundry room. Except outside the laundry room it was bright and sunshiney. Also, the laundry room (and the rest of the kibbutz for that matter) was understood to be on one of the hills by the ocean in Los Angeles. And it was also understood that Los Angeles was just down the hill. I could even see it! Yet we were still in Israel. Jerusalem didn't exist, it had turned into Los Angeles.
Also strange was the fact that EVERYONE I had met in Israel, not just ulpan friends or whatever that were supposed to be on the kibbutz, but EVERYONE I had ever met in Israel was now working on the kibbutz.

Precedence does not equal acceptance

I keep panicking in front of my friends about how I'm going to tell my parents about my pending move back to Israel. And, strangely, I keep getting the same response: "Well, you already did it once...it can't possibly be worse for them this time!"

Well, dear friends, let's use that same logic in different scenarios and we'll see if simple precedence makes a situation more tolerable:

-"Sorry I dropped another piece of your wedding china, Mom, but I DID shatter another piece a few months ago."

-"Sorry I raped your daughter again, Ma'am, but I DID do it five months ago too, so...."

-"Sorry I killed that man, Your Honor, but I DID kill another guy a few months ago, so....you know...."


So, "Sorry I'm moving back to Israel, Mommy and Daddy" even with the understood "but I DID also do the exact same thing a few months ago" does not exactly sound less horrible than the original, "By the way, I'm moving to Israel."



On a happier note, I told my brother and he is very supportive. He might be extending his Birthright stay so I'll get to see him when I arrive, and he'll probably be in Israel over the summer or during the next academic year for some sort of yeshiva thing. So that's one less family member I have to worry about telling.

How embarrassing...

Have you ever been so embarrassed that you think the only possible solution is to go hide in the woods somewhere for the next few decades until everyone you know is either dead or has forgotten about you?

That's pretty much how I feel right now. Someone I knew during my high school years has suddenly made a sort of brief re-entrance into my life, and so with that comes a whole slough (or is it slew?) of embarrassing moments that I'm suddenly remembering. I thought I had done a pretty decent job of converting horrifically embarrassing moments into future cancer-inducing repressed memories, but aparently I was wrong. Because I'm getting flooded with embarrassing moments.

I'm not talking about stupid moments like:

1) Like the time I pissed my pants on my front porch when I was 12. (I was out walking the dog, the door was locked.....and I had to go real bad.)

2) Like the time I got pantsed in front of a supermarket, except the friend who pantsed me also managed to bring my underwear down with it....and I ended up mooning an old lady.

3) Like the time I accidentally corrected a girl with a lisp on her pronunciation when she said "Lassen" as "Lashen" (being physically incapable of saying "Lassen")

4) Like the fact that I was a cheerleader in middle school.

5) Like the time I took a nap onstage before a show, and I woke up and found out that the red paint on the stage had rubbed off onto my butt in such a way that it looked like I had "perioded" myself, except I didn't realize it until one of the actors (I was the lighting designer) pulled me aside and asked if I needed a tampon.

6) Like the fact that at age 8 I was playing a dog in a play, and all I had to do was bark. And during the climactic scene of "Annie," I was supposed to bark a lot but I suddenly forgot how to bark....so I simply let out short blood-curdling screams instead of barks.

7) Like the fact that at age 9 I was playing a BRICK in a play, and I had to wear a bright yellow UNITARD, along with a cardboard brick attached to my head. That's right, I'll say it again: I wore a fucking unitard. On a fucking stage. And it was a yellow unitard. And, G-d help me, we have pictures of it.

8) Like the fact that we also have this gem of a picture from 6th grade:



9) Like pretty much any other moment of my childhood.

No, that's NOT what I'm talking about. At least for these moments, while horrifically embarrassing at the time, I can laugh about now. I'm talking about moments that, even almost a decade later, cause me to cringe and say to myself, "WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING, SAM?!" Moments that are so horrifically embarrassing that I sometimes question if I'll ever be fit for human company.

I noticed that a lot of my unbearably embarrassing moments (the moments that I won't be describing on this blog) have almost without fail arisen from situations in which I went against my natural instincts/desires in an attempt to do what I thought was socially expected or normal, and ended up failing miserably. I guess the moral of the story is, Be Yourself. Or maybe, Learn how NOT to fuck up socially expected situations.

For the past couple weeks I've gotten at least one phone call a day (sometimes two) in which my mom says, "Just hang in there and finish school." Cos I think she's figured out what my plans are, based on my hints. So basically every single day when my mom calls me, I have a minature heart attack as I panic and think about how horrible it's going to be when I finally have to acknowledge what my plans are.

insensitive pricks.

Just got back from grabbing a quick bite downstairs in the dining hall....and I'm struck by how much I hate people here. I don't think I've ever been surrounded by more insensitive people in my life.

Two overheard conversation today were particularly disgusting.

First, I have to explain that last year around the time when Los Angeles was (again) burning, some guy in my Hillel student group said that we shouldn't bother helping people affected by the fires because "Why should we bother helping people who bathe in Perrier?" His argument was that EVERYONE was so fucking rich in LA that it didn't matter if their homes burned down. (Never mind the fact that plenty of not so well-off people were affected.)

I immediately let it be known that, as a native of the city that was burning, i was extremely offended by this guy's insensitive attitude, and the fight got so ugly that the rabbi had to step in.

Anyway, so today at dinner I overheard the same argument. Some guy was blabbering on and on to his friends about how "We shouldn't care that LA's on fire....good riddance, they're only actors."

Cos, yeah, I'm sure a BUNCH of successful actors were living in that mobile home park that got completely burned up. (And, to be clear, LA's only surrounded by fire--it's the outlying areas that are actually burning. Fewer actors there....) Meanwhile, if it's anything like the fires I've been in LA for, there are a lot of refugees, there's ash all over the place, the air is unhealthy, and the sky looks like fucking armaggedon. It's especially creepy when the fire is behind the mountains that surround LA, because then you can see this scary glow coming over.


I wanted to pick a fight with this asshole, but then I decided to just ignore him. But then I hear the voice of a DIFFERENT asshole, cracking jokes about a missing student from our university. Laughing about how there's going to be a vigil for him, how a body was found in the lake that might very well be his...... I have no idea what's funny about that. Maybe I just have a terrible sense of humor, but I don't see what's funny in that. I'm not offended by it on a personal level, since I didn't know the poor guy who has gone missing, but it still struck me as an insensitive thing to say about ANYONE, even if you don't know them, but especially insensitive to say about someone who was a member of your larger university community.

It really made me wonder, "What if I were the one who went missing, or what if one of my closest friends were the one?" These assholes sitting at that table would probably still be cracking jokes.

I'm not saying everyone has to bow their heads and talk in somber tones all the time just because SOMEWHERE in the world SOMEONE is suffering, but I just don't think we should all have the attitude of "Oh, it doesn't affect me, therefore I don't give a shit and am going to voice my opinion about how I should not give a shit in a loud manner so that everyone can hear."

What bothered me most in all this was just how loud both assholes were being. You know what? You can have as many insensitive or offensive opinions as you like--just keep your fucking voice down when you're voicing them.

dancing in circles

Before I say anything, let me say two things:
1) I love that at the kosher market, there are Santa Clauses on the Coke bottles.
2) I hate that when I'm learning Yiddish I'm basically learning how to mutilate Hebrew.


So as I was snooping around on other blogs by Jews/Israelis/whatever, I stumbled across someone (unfortunatelyI forgot who now...) commenting on the fact that Miriam Makeba recently died. The author lamented the loss of a woman who provided the world with the song "Pata Pata," and recalled (fond?) memories of dancing to it in Hebrew School.

I thought to myself, "Wait, is this THE song?" There was one song that we danced to without fail, sometimes multiple times, at every Israeli dance class in Hebrew School--meaning that about a solid 50% of my Jewish education consisted of dancing to "Pata Pata." Years later I tried to locate the song out of nostalgic longing, but because I thought the song was called "Popcorn" I kept getting that electronic song that makes me feel like I'm playing Pong on my Atari.



I quickly leapt on this opportunity to track down this elusive song. And it turns out, the song of my childhood WAS INDEED "Pata Pata." This was the song of my childhood, and now I finally have it on my iTunes.

I mean, I thought it was weird that MY temple had us dancing to a song in a click language, but what struck me as bizarre was that this other blog I was reading said that her temple ALSO had them dancing to this song. Apparently there's some sort of "Pata Pata" epidemic among the Reform Movement, which raises the question: what is it with Reform Jews, mostly of Ashkenazic descent, and Miriam Mekaba? Isn't it kind of like ex-patriot Aboriginese Australians living in Canada adopting a Finnish folk song as their cultural dance?

And even forgetting the illegitimacy of using South African music as Israeli dance, why was such a large portion of religious school and hebrew school devoted to Israeli dance? Sure, I couldn't speak Hebrew, I barely knew prayers, and I didn't know the rules of kashrut, but holy cow could I dance in a circle. Occasionally we'd dance in partners or occasionally we'd dance in a "square" (like, you know, in rows), but mostly we were all about the circle dance, as a way to promote socialist/kibbutz values of equality, and the song would be some kibbutznik from decades ago singing away on some crappy tape recording.

Kind of like this:


הגבעטרון - ים השיבולים

Or maybe this:


הגבעטרון - בת 6

Or, come to think of it, kind of like pretty much anything else The Gevatron has ever sung.

I understand that they wanted to include the Israeli dancing as a sort of element of zionism....but it made it so that the only zionist fact I knew was that Haifa has a port. I couldn't tell you where in Israel Haifa was--when asked to point to it on a map, I'd be just as likely to point to Gaza city--but I knew it had a port. Also, I had picked up in a very vague sense that a lot of shit (and Palestinians) had blown up over the years in Israel, but I couldn't tell you when or where or how many times. But, DAMN, could I dance in a circle.

And how useful is dancing in a circle in modern Israel? Sure, I dont know how the government works, but I can dance in a circle. I dont know basic geography, but I can dance in a circle. I'd be completely lost at a bar mitzvah in Israel, but holy shit could I dance--in a circle--at the reception afterwards.

"Welcome to our kibbutz, SemenTAH. Do you have any relevant skills that you think our kibbutz could benefit from? Tell me before I permanently sentence you to the laundry room."
--"Well, I can dance in a circle."
"Um....."
--"What, I thought that's what y'all do on kibbutzes all day....?"

And yes, I'd call them 'kibbutzes.'


Perhaps my bitterness towards learning Israeli dances (mostly of the circle-variety) stems from the fact that in kindergarten I once became a sort of projectile missile during one of the dance sessions. We were learning the chicken dance in either kindergarten religious school or during pre-school (you gotta start Chicken Dance training early if you want to be ready in time for your Bar/Bat Mitzvah), and my partner was my bestie--who also happened to be the largest girl in our religious school class. And, at the time, I was basically the smallest. At regular school we had to line by grade and by height every year for the Christmas and the "American Appreciation Day" shows, and in kindergarten I was 3rd smallest out of 60. Just to give you an idea of how short I was.

So basically I, the shrimp, was paired with the largest land mammal this side of the Mississippi. We were having a lot of fun going really fast during the do-si-do parts.....until, towards the end, we were going so fast that my little feet actually left the ground and I was simply being swung around by my great moose of a partner.

And then, G-d help me, she let go to switch arms.

I've never flown quite like that before. I don't remember anymore exactly what I smashed into--maybe it was chairs, maybe it was another couple, maybe it was a bookshelf, I have no idea--but I do remember it being absolutely terrifying and absolutely painful.


Anyway, I just wanted to take the time to reflect on Israeli dance. As I've learned from my past Israel experiences, Israeli dancing hasn't proved to be too helpful when trying to make a life in Israel, but who knows--maybe it's different when you're an olah? Maybe citizens of Israel have secret underground circle dance sessions that tourist visa holders aren't invited to.

Too bad that Miriam Makeba died... :-( But at least she left me with fond(?) memories of Hebrew School.



Hers was one of the few songs we DIDN'T have to be in a circle for....


.

January 11th, 2009: This girl leaves US soil as solely an American.

January 12th, 2009: This girl arrives on Israeli soil and becomes a friggin' citizen!


Time for some traveling music, eh?

Dierks Bentley, Free and Easy.

HEY YOU!

The following is perhaps a bit dweeby. Stay with me.



I used to find the concept of different types of "you"s in Hebrew to be extremely confusing. As you're probably well aware (unless you're a foreigner who happened to stumble across my site yet doesn't read English, in which case:

asdghj;alkdsha;wkengoiawe asdg asdkgakdg adsgaowigoawing

....That was an example of English for you to enjoy, dear foreigner), anyway, like I said, as you're probably well aware, English has only one word for "you," in most dialects. The exception, of course, being the Southern "y'all." But for most folks, you can be speaking to a girl, a guy, or a whole stadium full of people and just use "you."

Hebrew, on the other hand, requires the use of three different words that you can call "you man," "you woman," or "you folks." Eventually I got the hang of things, but when I was starting out in Hebrew and during my early days in Israel, I used to just use whatever form of the Hebrew "you" that first came to mind, simply because when I was trying to communicate quickly it did not occur to my English-speaking mind that my first thought of "you" was the wrong one.

So finally I'm getting the hang of things in Hebrew, but now I'm upset with English cos now I want more info from English "you"s. When you say "you" to me, are you talking about me and someone else or just me? Are you addressing me or the member of the opposite gender next to me? GAAAAAAA

Shit, when did I turn into a huge sack of illness? Why am I sick again?!?!?! And when the hell am I supposed to hear back from the JA?

Filler

This post is simply filler to remind myself to tell y'all (basically me) that tonight when I get back from dropping my ma off at the airport I will be writing about long johns that turn into glorified sports bras. Stay tuned!

plus, my eyes are burning and i look like that girl who always looked sick. And huck finn, the ulpanist who floated on by.

Oprah's job isn't her job.

Mom: I hate Oprah now.

Sam: WHAT?!!?!?!?!?!

**********Warning, what follows is the line of the century:***************
Mom: I didn't like that she endorsed Obama. I mean, that's not Oprah's jooooob, telling America who to vote for and what to think and what to do!
***************END***************

Sam: Um, actually that's EXACTLY Oprah's job.

Mom: What are you talking about?

Sam: Mom, she tells everyone in America to read a book and everyone in America--including you--go out and buy that book. She tells people how to lose weight, she tells people what to buy other people (at least in her magazine), she tells people about different issues that Americans suffer from and she tells us how to feel about them....basically, Oprah tells us EVERYTHING, so don't act all shocked that she told you who to vote for.

Currently in a hotel room overlooking Michigan Ave with my maaaaaaaaam!!!!

So, still no news from the JA. Maybe this week? Stay tuned. Or don't. That'd be okay too.

According to my classmates, I am "backwards"

I really hate political arguments. Really, I do. I really don't see the point of them, unless one of the participants is an undecided voter. But otherwise, what the fuck is the point of a die-hard Democrat and a die-hard Republican debating anything? I mean, do you as a Democrat think that maybe if you talk to me viciously enough I'll stop thinking that killing unborn babies is not a right, and do I think that maybe if I, a Republican, yell at you enough you'll suddenly be voting for Palin in 2012?

So, dear whoever is reading this, do not engage me in a political argument. Because I'm not interested in a useless discussion that just makes all participants angry.

Why am I saying this? Because today at Hebrew table, within minutes of arrival someone asked me whether I went to Obama's victory thing downtown. As part of my answer, I mentioned that I was Republican. And, oh gawd, you would have thought that I had announced in the middle of a synagogue that I was a Hitler supporter. This girl immediately demanded--not asked with polite curiosity, but DEMANDED--to know why I was a Republican. I tried to explain in a nutshell, but what followed was just more pure nastiness from this girl. It wasn't so much that she was asking questions that were so out of line (though I guess they WERE out of line since I kept trying to make it clear that I'd prefer to talk about something less divisive), but it was HOW she was asking. It was just pure vicious. And, well, I have to say it made me pretty angry. I don't think I've EVER been even remotely as vicious to a Democrat when I've been in a rare political discussion with one. You're pro-abortion and I'm not? Fine, whatever, i don't really give a shit--let's just cast our votes and let that be it. Seriously, just fuck off, I don't want to talk to you.




Also, rich white kids at elitist universities have GOT to stop talking about communism. When they open their stupid mouths that have known nothing but privilege and they start spewing shit about the workers rising up and everyone living in perfect, government-enforced equality and Marx and blahblahblah....I just want to strangle them, myself, and anyone else within earshot of this stupidity. As I told Abraham, when this girl opened her mouth about communism I could hear my father screaming bloody murder 2000 miles away. At first I thought maybe I wasn't understanding her Hebrew properly, that clearly I was misunderstanding what she was saying cos no one could POSSIBLY be so stupid. But no, it turns out I DID understand! I mean, I could forgive her for advocating socialism, but full-blown communism? Nope, she's clearly retarded.


Okay, hopefully starting tomorrow this blog will be politics-free. Cos I'm just fucking sick of it.

where the hell am I supposed to be?

Edit: I guess I should say something about the election. Well, obviously I'm disappointed that McCain lost. Bright side though? I think Obama's really hot, so at least I have that to look forward to for the next four years (at least). I mean, not JOHN EDWARDS hot, but still quite hot. See, every storm cloud has a silver lining!


So at the moment I'm deciding against aliyah. I guess part of it has to do with the fact that the whole being home thing--driving across the country, experiencing an election, and seeing old friends and family once again--has made me realize that this really is my country. Not that Israel isn't....

I ended up calling my mom and having a sobfest, with me begging to come home. I kept sobbing that I wanted to come home, or that I wanted to go to Israel, or that I wanted to live in the boondocks of some rural state. ANYWHERE but here.

"My mom used to always say that you can't run away from your problems," said my Mom. I responded, "Really? That doesn't sound like grandma...." And my mom said, "Actually, the direct quote was, 'You're going to run away, Karen? Honest? Fine. Just know that wherever you go, YOU'LL still be there.' " And I loved the way my mom acted out my grandma saying "You'll," as if my mother would have been the most repulsive thing to come across when running away from home.

But I guess that's valid. I suppose in all my wanderings, from my longing to move to Wales and lead the Welsh independence movement (my goal throughout high school) to my longing to move to Israel and be a zionist leader (well, technically I wanted to be a prophet or the next Moses, but for some reason G-d chose not to agree), the main issue is that I really just don't like me and I don't like other people.

I'm gonna say that this is a 50-50 thing. Or maybe 75-25. 75% of my problems in life can be directly traced to my self-loathing and to the fact that I am socially inept. And the other 25% of my problems is completely unrelated to me and is based solely on the fact that people, as a rule, are douches. And let's face it: I ain't changing anytime soon. And people are douches, even in Israel.

My mom kept repeating, "Just hang in there." I'm starting to get sick of those words. I feel like that cat from all those posters, you know, the cat that everyone keeps telling, "HANG IN THERE!"



And I just wanna yell back, "BITCH, I AM HANGING FROM A FUCKING TREE BRANCH-- GET ME A GODDAMN LADDER!"

SOMEONE CALL THE FUCKING FIRE DEPARTMENT!

The problem is that if I leave....I give up all the shit I had to put up with. From kindergarten. All of it would be for nothing. And also, barring the taxi driving profession, any other profession I have ever considered in my life would be off-limits to me: I couldn't be a teacher, or an army psychiatrist (seriously, I wanted to do this), or....or whatever.

I'm thinking maybe I just have to "hang in there." And then when I graduate I can go off and lead the Welsh rebellion or some kind of Zionist uprising or some shit like that. For right now though, i guess i just gotta be boring and bored.


EDIT: I keep hearing people say/reading on status messages on Facebook/whatever whatever "Oh, FINALLY I'm proud to be an American!" or "For once in my life I'm actually proud to be an American!" Which I think is pretty disgusting. I mean, I get it, you didn't like Bush. Fine. I don't like Obama but I'm not suddenly ashamed to be an American just because he's going to be our next president. I don't know. I guess I just find people like that absolutely disgusting, kind of like how self-hating Jews are, except here we have self-hating Americans.


Welsh, French, Italian, Arabic, Hebrew, Romanian-- languages I'd like to try to learn. must talk to college advice person about this...

You know what's really cool about living in the US? When we have elections, the ENTIRE PLANET cares. Which is kind of cool. I mean, no pressure or anything, America....

IT'S GAME TIME, BABY!

it's now a few minutes past midnight. It's officially ELECTION DAY in Chicago (well, unless you count it from the time the polls open, which won't be for a few hours).

IT'S GAME TIME, AMERICA! BRING IT!

If Nader wins....

I love that before every election, you always hear people saying:

"If X wins, I'm moving to Y!"

Example? "If Bush wins, I'm moving to Canada."


Now, on a rational level, I can't imagine Bush was horrible enough to make people want to humiliate themselves by becoming Canadian, but that's another topic for another day....

But for this election, I will say: "If Barack Obama wins, I'm moving to Israel."


But then again, I can also say: "If John McCain wins, I'm moving to Israel."

Regardless of who wins, I'm going.


You know what? Let's get creative. Let's come up with different things to do depending on who wins.
If Nader wins, I'm moving to Wales.
If Bob Barr (libertarian) wins, I'm moving to France.
If McKinney (green) wins, I'm moving to Iraq.
If Keyes (American Independent) wins, I'm moving to New Zealand.


Also, I'm sick of all this "CHANGE!" talk. Obama's using it a bit (okay, understatement of the century), but McCain kind of hopped on that bandwagon as well. You know what? It doesn't matter who wins, not a whole lot is gonna change. Obama's a douche and McCain's a douche. Anybody who could devote an entire year and a half (or however long the campaigns have been running) to "traveling" the country, shaking hands and babies, and trying to say exactly what people want to hear....ANYBODY who does that, regardless of political affiliation, is a douche. You HAVE to be a douche to campaign. Dubya? A douche. John F. Kennedy? A douche. Abraham Lincoln? Also a douche.

So pretty much every president in this nation's history has been a douche, and they're only getting douchier because they're under a lot more scrutiny nowadays, what with the internet and TV and all.

So let's not say anymore, "Well, X seems like the kind of guy I'd have a beer with," because X is actually just a douche. X ain't gonna be drinking beer with you in the foreseeable future because he's too busy being a douche. X doesn't have time to crack open a Budweiser, a taste he secretly despises, with you because, like a gypsy or perhaps a creepy transient hobo, he needs to be moving on to the next state, where he'll pick up even more babies and give even more clammy, limp handshakes to a different crowd of morons.

I'm not sure what my point in saying all of this is. I guess my point is this: no matter who wins tomorrow, if your guy wins you shouldn't say, "Wow, we're in for some great change and some great times under this GLORIOUS LEADER." Because no matter who wins, the "glorious leader" is going to be a douche. That's just how it's going to be. I guess it's a little depressing that we have to live in a world where our lives revolve around which two douches an election will narrow down to every four years, and then we spend the next couple years being led by one of those douches.....but that's how it goes.

And may the best douche win.

GAAAA, I AM SO SICK OF EVERYBODY!

"We're sick of you, too!" shouts back everybody.

So prolly tomorrow or Tuesday I'll find out more Israel details. STAY TUNED, BITCHES


Also, I'm watching Titanic now. For like the millionth time. As with every movie with a sad ending (such as the sinking of aship....), I'm convinced that when I watch it, somehow it'll turn out okay. Like, "Op, the Titanic doesn't sink this time!"

Does anyone else not understand how daylight savings time works? Like, do I get to relive an hour of my life? This is one of those things I think I'll never understand.

Of course you'd register for health insurance at the post office. OF COURSE. Where else would you even think of doing so???

just had a nightmare...i only ws asleep for 3 hours, and i dont have to wake up for another 4. fuck i miss having a roommate. it's horrible to wake up from some scary shit and then realize that you're in a room all by yourself and that you dont know a single one of your neighbors.

hug please?

I can't stop singing the Brigadoon song. Like, non-stop.

Shit. So I just finished my 5-page history paper and now I have to do my logic problem set. Which I don't really understand.


So tomorrow is the drop deadline. So I decided to drop logic. Cos it's not like I'm graduating anyway. haha.

מכתבים...

My dear fellow women,

Please don't treat itty-bitty undearwear-length shorts as outergarments. They are not. They are not an acceptable replacement for pants, I don't care how hot it is (though right now it's freezing out....weird....). Also not an acceptable replacement for pants? Leggings. I seriously do not need to be able to see every contour in your ass. Leggings are supposed to supplement something that is already covering you, like a skirt or dress. Not just a big t-shirt. Maybe you think you're pulling off some bizarre retro style, a throwback to some of fashions greater hits. When was that style popular? The middle ages. Well, this isn't the middle fucking ages, and even if it were, it'd be the men in the leggings. Not you. So put on some goddamn pants.

Your prudish fellow woman,
Sam.



Dear Annoying Bitch,

Please stop talking to me in that condescending tone. Fine, maybe if you wanna use it when we talk about gossip or sports (besides soccer) or science or anything that you know better than me, MAYBE I'll get over it if you use it then. But don't patronizingly tell me about "how things are in Israel" and "how Israelis live" in that condescending voice when you 1) don't keep up with the news in Israel and 2) have never even BEEN to the fucking country. I know I'm not an expert, I know I'm no Israeli myself, but just shut your fucking face.

Thanking you in advance,
Sam.

ALL FORMS HAVE BEEN TURNED INTO THE JEWISH AGENCY! !!!! let's see what happens...

Also, I knew I did the right thing in turning in my forms and heading down this road when I came out of the building. I felt extremely happy and excited, and when I turned on the ignition in the car--"Ticks," from the beginning of the song, started BLASTING from the radio. haha. it was a perfect moment.

never realized it until now: i cant hear public transportation from my room. i can hear the train going by every few....i dont now how long in between. i cant hear it during the day i guess because it's noisier outside and stuff, but right now i can hear it chugging along.

One of my neighbors is definitely smoking weed at the moment. They're blasting reggae and there is a sweet, strong smell definitely making its way out of their door and into the hallway. I think it's a little ridiculous. I mean, if you're going to smoke, whatever. That's your deal. But you're already going to attract attention with the smell, so what's with the reggae. That's just like blasting an advert that says, "YES, YOUR SUSPICIONS HAVE BEEN CONFIRMED--WE ARE INDEED SMOKING ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES."

I think I need to clean my room. When I open the door and walk in, it smells like salsa. Which is not exactly something you'd like your room to smell like.

That would suck to be a shaliach for the Jewish agency. Cos basically their job is tell other people how fucking amazing Israel is (okay, not's not what they'll tell you their job is), and all the while they're stuck in a different country.

I hate that every single time you make an aliyah attempt or whatever, there's always something you need. Like, when I was in Israel, had I declared citizenship, I would have needed a letter from the Los Angeles police saying that I didn't have a run-in with them. Or so I was told. Now I'm being told that I need high school/college transcripts or some other kind of proof that I've been in the US and not Israel for the past 7 years. Dude, just let me into the fucking country. I mean Jesus, the Law of Return makes it seem like you just show up at Ben Gurion and say, "I'm Jewish, and I wanna be Israeli now." But ohhhhhhh how much more complicated it all is.

okay, there's a chance i might be in jerusalem--as a citizen--by january 15th. there's a slim chance that i could be there by december 30, but im not banking on that one.....

תקווה גדולה.

So apparently the fattest man in the world got married this week. I gotta say, this has been the best news I've heard all day. It just goes to show that there's hope out there for all of us.....


...I guess this also means I can have cake at lunch today and still have hope of getting married in my future?

תקראי. תקראי. מה? מה הבעיה? תקראי

My Chilean roomie (well, former roomie....) wrote on my facebook wall in transliterated Hebrew, and it just reminded me how people with different languages as a native tongue transliterate Hebrew differently. For example, what I might write as "ch" or "kh" she writes as "j." Where I would write "ha" she writes "a." Stuff like that. I find it really interesting.

Also really interesting was something that happened at "army camp." Dunno if I wrote about it when it happened, but here it is, maybe for the first maybe for the second time. Our mfakedet handed us slips of paper, in English, to read aloud. And she said in Hebrew to my Chilean roomie, "Read what yours says." And my roomie explained in choppy Hebrew that she can't read English. And the mfakedet was like, "What does that mean, OF COURSE you can read English!" And then everyone from the ulpan jumped in and was like, no no no, she speaks Spanish, she doesn't speak a word of English and so she can't read English.

And I'll never forget what happened next. The mfakedet adopted the most incredulous expression on her face, and blurted out as if the answer were so simple: "But it's the same alphabet!"


Which I just thought was priceless. It seems like such an obvious answer. "But it's the same alphabet." It makes total sense when you hear it, but then you realize that just as I can't read Czech, my Spanish-speaking roomie is going to have a hard time reading English. Even if it's the same alphabet.

Jesus H. Christ is it going to be cold today...

אפשר לשכוח את זה...?

is it possible to forget how to fall asleep? Cos I think I may have done just that.

Maybe it's just cos I have a lot on my mind or something. Or maybe I need to get more exercise during the day or something.

Or maybe the problem is that I love breakfast so much that I get too excited about it to sleep.

מחר אני נוסעת לסוכנות היהודית

Good lord, is that smell my feet??!?


Tomorrow is my meeting with the Jewish Agency....get excited. Cos I am. I'm going to try to get my application submitted on the same day--I already have my letter from a rabbi, my birth certificate, my passport, passport photos, and everything else they require for the application. So hopefully this will expedite the process and I can be back in the holy land before Martin Luther King, Jr Day. And I can celebrate it Israeli-style by not celebrating it at all.

אני שונאת את החבורה

So i was thinking about different Hebrew words, and for some reason that reminded me of "Chavura." The horrible group of Jewish adults (and their children) from our temple that my parents socialized with once a month and forced us along. If I had to point at one single thing that killed Judaism for me in my childhood, it would probably be these people. And for some reason I "lucked out," because for the most part all the kids in our particular chavura were my age, and not my brothers' ages. And so I attended Hebrew school/Sunday school with them, and hated most of them to begin with.


Aaaaa, fond memories of growing up Jewish.....

2 a.m.

Oh Jesus, the infomercials are starting to come on now.....

oh shit, is tonight going to be another night where i cant sleep? SHIT! my mom has terrible issues with insomnia, so i hope some inherited disorder is not beginning to manifest itself now in me...

omg, house marathon on TV right now......best evening ever!!!

אבל הוא יקח את הדברים שלנו!!!

I'm pissed off because I got a bad grade on a history paper. What was one of the reasons listed?

"Excessive use of metaphors."

Well fuck. On the sheet we received in class when we got our papers back (with general criticism and tips for the whole class), it said, "History is boring enough as it is. So instead of using passive verbs, use active ones to make your paper more exciting!"

Well I thought using metaphors and similes and stuff would make my paper less boring. But apparently it was too exciting or something. :-(



Also, this has been bothering me for a WHILE now, but I finally figured it out. This horrible girl in my logic discussion section looks exactly like Wallace from "Wallace and Gromit." She has a bizarrely large jaw, just like him, and she has bizarre teeth, just like him. Once I figured this out, I couldn't stop staring at her. I kept imagining her making two fists, raising her hands in the air, shaking them in unision while screaming, "GROMIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!" Whenever she haughtily laughed at others' stupidity in class, I wondered if she had ever gone on a rocket trip to the moon, which was made of cheese, and whenever she tried her hardest to correct the TA (who wasn't wrong), I ever wondered if her control of her body was ever taken over by a pair of "wrong trousers."

This probably explains why I'm failing logic.

I also realized that this girl TRIES to be dirty. Like, I'll just forget to take a shower and then I'm dirty, but this girl like tries to make it a fashion statement. LIke, "I don't care how I look, and I spent 3 hours trying to figure out how to convey this in my clothing and in my ratty ponytail."

Also, when the hell will looking like a racoon go out of fashion??? I'm really looking forward to this day.


Also, I went to the market on Thursday with Abr. and I'm pretty sure it's the first time I've been in a market since my days in Israel. So I pull the cart down towards the bagging area and I wait to bag our stuff. While I'm waiting for our stuff to get scanned, I turn my back for a second to look at my surroundings (a kosher market I've never been in) and when I turn back around some guy I don't know is putting bagged items into my cart. And in my head I was freaking out, because I thought this guy had taken our cart (which made me think, "AND WE HAD TO PAY FOR THAT!") and that, omg, was he planning on taking our stuff?
I looked back at Abr. but he didn't seem to even notice. So I went around the checkout counter to stand behind him, and I kept trying to slyly point his attention towards this weird man taking our stuff, but Abraham doesn't seem to notice.

Finally, once everything had been bagged ("Shit, that mans gonna take our stuff!"), the bag man looked up and said something like, "Have a nice day" or something, and then I was like: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. It's this guy's job. He's the bag boy.

Boy did I feel like a paranoid idiot.

עיוור בבוקר

I love "Wake-Up" blindness. You know, where you when wake up everything's blurry for like five minutes. I used to think that my dad was the cure, cos approximately 5 mintues after I woke up I'd run downstairs for breakfast, and my dad was the only person downstairs at that time....and he was thus the first person to come into focus every day during my school life.

what's the first thing that comes into focus in the mornings for me now? Nothing. Because my room is so messy that nothing is defined--socks on shirts, binders on boots, bags on books, etc etc. I gotta work on that...

"I love you, wildcat."

Wow, what a way to kill the romance in a scene.

Why wasn't my high school like High School Musical???? I feel like I missed out.

אתם צוחקים עליי?

oh my god, i finally drifted off to sleep at around 3.30.....and then the fire alarm went off at 3.50. and we all had to evacuate the building. and it's pouring rain and VERY cold outside. this must be gods idea of a sick joke.

aw gawd, is this going to be one of those nights where i end up seeing the sun rise?

fuck, i wish i could sleep....

Okay, I'm seriously convinced that my parents think I'm nuts. The tone they're using when they talk to me suggests that they think that at any given moment I'm just going to off myself. I've only gotten this tone three times in my whole life. This is the time in my life if (if I were at home) I wouldn't have to do any chores. Aw, too bad I don't live at home anymore...


GETTING EXCITED FOR MY ALIYAH APPOINTMENT ON MONDAY!!! (And I'm even more excited about this than I was about my Misrad Hapnim appointments because at the Jewish Agency offices in the US there's a lot less of a language barrier. I mean, here all I have to worry about is if the Chicago office lady uses the word "pop" instead of "soda," whereas in Jerusalem it's a completely different language--like, they don't even have a word for "is." And in the US I'm not going to accidentally wait in line for a marriage recognition certificate like I did in Jerusalem.....)

P.S. Oh my gawd, my yiddish professor needs to learn how to shut the fuck up and end class on time. She's a really nice lady, but I'm one of those people that NEEDS to get out of class on time, otherwise I start shaking with anger when you keep talking and it's 5.08 pm and I had somewhere to be 8 minutes ago. Like, so angry that I can't hear what you're saying and I can't sit still and I start to panic. With anger. Yes, I panic with anger, so angry that I start to panic. I'm sure you're thinking, "How the hell do you manage that?" But I assure you, I manage this without a problem. I am able to get so angry that I panic, no problem whatsoever. If anyone's reading this, maybe they can do me a favor and diagnose me with a psychological problem, because I get the feeling that people don't normally get so worked up over being made late to something else because their professor keeps talking.

My logic TA does it too, but usually I am not in a rush to get somewhere after logic discussion and if I am then I feel comfortable just getting up and leaving when I have to because the discussion section is moderately sized. But I'm in a class of 5 people for Yiddish, so if I got up......"SIME?!?!?! VOOHIN GAYSTU??!?!?" ("Sime, where are you going?" or, given the tone she would use should I get up while she's talking, it'd probably be more accurately translated as, "Bitch, where you think you're going?")

I GOT AN APPOINTMENT WITH THE JEWISH AGENCY ON MONDAY! GAAAAAA

(Dear Reader,
This is your cue to sing "Under the Sea" to me.
--Sam)

My letter got published! haha.

That McCain ad with all the people saying, "I'm Joe the Plumber" reminds me of Spartacus...

Best part of today? A moment during Hebrew Table when we were discussing our favorite dining halls on campus. And I was trying to explain "Burrito Day" which occurs on Thursdays in my dorm. And so I translated it as "Yom Burrito." Which i cant stop laughing about, cos I keep thinking about Yom Kippur except with burritos. Like, a solemn day of atonement, prayer and burritos.....

"I'm as mad as hell..."

Basically my life right now:



One of my favorite movie scenes of all time, from "Network." It takes a while for it to get interesting, but the payoff is worthwhile.

Oh great, now that I had that whole talk with my mom on the phone, she's now like, "I HAVE TO FLY OUT TO CHICAGO RIGHT NOW TO TALK TO YOU IN PERSON!!!" so now i feel terrible like im causing so much chaos that my mother has to fly out immediately to see me. and she was like, "You sounded sad, so i want to spend some time with you" which made me feel lame and baby-like...

So today people were handing out New Testaments on campus, and I'm just so fed up with all this missionary shit in what is essentially my HOME.

So I did what I could do: I wrote a letter to the editor. I doubt it'll get published, but here it is:

Dear People Standing by The Arch,

I hate you. No, I don’t have a minute for the environment, no, I don’t want to learn about Mormonism, no, I don’t want a copy of the New Testament, and, no, I’m not interested in being a Jew for Jesus. I am a Jew for Going to my 9 am logic class in Fisk. I’m more likely to find a 20 dollar bill on the ground on my way to class than I am to find Jesus, no matter how hard you people try, and frankly I’d be much happier to have the 20 dollars. It’s not as if you people are introducing me to some new thing, like I haven’t heard about Christianity before, like it’s some mystical and mysterious fringe religion. And it’s not as if I don’t know where I can find a church if I suddenly feel the need to go to one—there’s one right across the street from The Arch.

With love towards Christians who leave everyone alone but with hatred towards missionaries,

--Sam
Founder, Jews for Being Left Alone

Oh fuck, and I don't know how to do my logic homework, and i'm just SO done here. im just done. im done with writing papers on shit i dont give one flying fuck about, im done with doing logic trees about irrelelvant letters, and im done with sitting through hebrew class and learning about where to put a dagesh and where not to.

This is your chance to call me an idiot.

I hate being singled out on the street to shake a lulav just cos I'm Jewish. I hate being the weirdo.



Ended up having a conversation with my maaaaam about the whole to finish/not to finish college thing. And her response was, "Just wait, finish it out, it'll get better." Which is a ridiculous thing to say, because I've been begging to not have to go to school since 10th grade. Actually, that sort of acting out goes back even farther. Even in elementary school I was hiding in my closet in the morning so that I wouldn't have to sit through another day of class. My point? it ain't gittin better.

I'll admit, the thought of coming back to my friends was exciting. I was excited about seeing my old friends and whatnot, and seeing my FAMILY again. But then I realized that it wasn't a vacation from Israel, it was an actual farewell. Or maybe it IS a vacation, if you call two years a vacation. So seeing my friends, seeing my family, blahblahblah, was great (and still is), and being back in classes was pretty exciting. But now I've settled in and I'm bored and frustrated with classes again. The honeymoon is over, and now I have to stay married to this idea for two more years.

And talking on the phone to my mom made me cry. Because her response was just "Wait it out."

NO. I want out NOW.

Fuck. I wish I had an artistic talent. I wish I stuck with the bass, cos then I could just be like, "Fuck this, I'm taking my band to the big time." Or if I were a painter, I could paint shit, or whatever.

When I was little my parents bought me and my brother a book. A Dr. Seuss-style book, with fill-ins. And you were supposed to write about your likes, your dislikes, your habits, your this and your that. And in the spot that said, "WHEN I GROW UP, I WANT TO BE A ________" I wrote in my terrible, messy handwriting:

Taxi Driver.

And my parents flipped a shit. "Why are we paying for private school?!?!?!?" I still think it'd be great to be a taxi driver though. I love driving, and I love observing people without having to be their friend. You'd get to listen to their side of phone conversations, you'd hear people arguing or professing love in the back seat, and you'd get to consider to yourself, "Why is this person going to this place? And why were they at the place I picked them up from?" I mean, I HATE being a passenger in taxis for this very reason, because I believe that taxi drivers all chose to be taxi drivers for the same reason I'd want to be a taxi driver.

Another thing: Why do I like languages?
Because I like being able to eavesdrop in foreign countries.

I've never realized what a nosey person I am, but I guess that's EXACTLY what I am. I can't look at people without trying to figure out their background history. I can't go to someone's room without trying to visually take in EVERYTHING. Except when it's a friend who is talking, anything anyone says is constantly analyzed.

Jesus, maybe I should be a therapist? Hahah. I still like the idea of taxi driver though...

Ended up going to see a movie to clear my head. (The Duchess...). If ever you feel that your thoughts are muddled and you're not sure what to do next in your life: go to a movie. By yourself. A matinee, preferably, where either you're completely alone in the theater or there are two or three other people.

Also ended up calling a besty from high school....which was really nice. Sometimes it's nice to be told that some idiotic idea you have is one worth following. I miss having friends like that, you know, ones that are so idealistic that they will in completely good faith encourage you to do something that is risky, something that is bound to fail, but something that iis either life-saving or (more likely) life-destroying. It's nice to have a friend who doesn't anxiously say, "Well, what if X doesn't work?!" but rather, "Whoa, think of what'll happen if X works!! AWESOME!"

Also, I feel like I've created three separate Brigadoons. And I'm also simultaneously living in a Brigadoon AND living outside of two Brigadoons. And throughout all of this, I feel like I should be paying royalties to Lerner and Loewe for the amount of Brigadoon references on this blog.

Dear University/Midwest,

I am done. I've had enough of your forms and paperwork and payments and deadlines and whatever. There's a lot of fun to be had here, like at football games or simply eating dinner with old friends, but frankly the shit here outweighs what's nice here. It's like, I can't even enjoy a night out with my best friends because the stench of being stuck here cannot be escaped. It's like I'm walking around with a huge pile of shit under my nose at all times.

I'm taking the first boat back to LA or Israel. Hell, I'd even be fine with Arkansas at this point.

--Sam

P.S. I have "Start a Band" (Brad Paisley/Keith Urban) stuck in my head. majorly.

I love not having a roommate because now I can watch late night TV in bed. Conaaaaaaan!! It's also wonderful because in my room at home I was never allowed to have a TV. (My parents still won't allow me to buy a TV for my dorm room, but the university provides TV through your computer, thank goodness) YAY COLLEGE

I'm sick of those people on TLC who have so many goddamn kids. The Jon and Kate Plus 8 people I don't blame because they only had two pregnancies, but the OTHER families that the channel profiles with like 12 kids or more....it just grosses me out. Don't have so many fucking kids! How do you even remember all of their names??!?! And I'm not saying kids always need designer this or fancy-shmancy that, but if you have almost 20 children, they can never have ANYTHING even remotely special or nice. Which I just dont think is fair. Maybe that sounds shallow.

They just did a short little segment on the crowd at our football game on the news today, and I think I saw myself. Hahah!!

HOLY SHIT

So I tagged the uni's football coach in a picture I took at the game. (like 650 people from the university are friends with him).

And he/whoever runs his facebook profile ACTUALLY WROTE ON MY WALL! Hahahahahah

This is the greatest day of my life!!

hahah

Back when our football team used to suck, being at the game was kind of like the weather today.

Explain?

Today it's cold. Like, chilly and wet and rainy and cold and gloomy. And you know that this is basically just the beginning.

You know that the rape is coming.

Kind of like how at football games, when the other team scored their first touchdown of the game...and you knew it was just a taste of the coming rape.

I feel at some point I should do a proper post. But for now, let me just say the following:

1) The cut I got from that weird faucet thing in the shower back on the kibbutz is now officially a SCAR. I am now scarred both emotionally AND physically from my time on the kibbutz.

2) I am hiding from people in my dorm. I don't like these people, so I don't want to see them or be seen by them. I've become that creepy person that no one ever sees, and that some suspect has actually died in her dorm room.

3) I walked around a Barnes and Noble yesterday with my pants down. Actually, that's not entirely true. I was in the bathroom and there was some weird lady in the stall next to me talking to herself...so I was like, fuck this shit, I'm getting out of here. And in my rush to get out of the bathroom, I totally forgot to zip or button my pants. They were not even fully up, I'd wager.

4) We won on Saturday. And half of my face is sunburned. But not the other half. But I'm still glad we won. I got some great footage of the Game Experience, which I hope to upload onto here. Some great pictures and some great videos....my personal favorite was a picture of the claw gestures that we make that look like we're actually a stadium full of Hitler Youth. I also got on film a touchdown, complete with the stadium erupting into screams and the marching band launching into the fight song. Also on tape was the notorious key jingling. Be prepared for that awesomeness.

5) I can't decide if I hate or love this place. maybe a bit of both? I guess I'm ready to be done with school and ready to be done with cold weather, but I like being in education rather than in a laundry room.

6) In the car with Abraham today I actually went through a list of most of the Bitches/Women of the Wash I worked with, and it was so weird....it seems so far away. Most of the time when I talk to people in person about my time in Israel, I make vague statements like, "I worked in a laundry room." In that situation, I'd state that I didn't like the women, but to actually go through the list, with their actual names, and actually think about each one having a distinct personality.....It was so weird. I forget that each one had a voice, an accent, a way of speaking, a walk, body language, etc etc.... I haven't thought about specifics of the laundry room since I got back, and it was weird to think about it now.

7) The other day I was walking by this main courtyard place on campus and I hear this voice keep screaming, "ABBY?? ABBY MILLER??!?!? ABBY MILLER!" And she just kept yelling it, getting increasingly annoyed that Abby wasn't responding. And then all of the sudden this girl THAT I KNOW taps me on the shoulder and is like, "Jeez, Abby, learn to respond to your name! haha, how ARE you?!?! I haven't seen you in so long!! Tell me what's new!" And she acted as if we were best friends.
Needless to say, my name is Sam and not, in fact, Abby. Hell, I've even learned to respond to SemenTAH or Semi, but Abby? No way, my friend.

Jesus Christ, the alumni homecoming party down the street is louder than the kibbutz's neighboring arabs--and those guys had guns!

Was sitting on a bench eating shawarma, enjoying the tail-end of pleasant weather before the coming winter....

And this young couple, you know, somewhere in their early 30's, walks by. And the woman says, "Oh, it smells like foreign food!'

Not middle eastern food, not even a WRONG guess like "It smells like Indian food." I love that. "Foreign Food." hahahah

it just dawned on me that Dr. House is frequently wrong.

Just got back from the homecoming parade/fireworks display.

Oh man. School spirit is one of my guilty pleasures. I'm a total dweeb, but I love being part of this....mob. A mob of psychos.

The best float was by a a frat whose theme was China. (The theme of homecoming is like "Where in the world is carmen sandiego" or something). And they had a car dragging a trailer that was decorated to look like the Great Wall, and people were on it holding lanterns....and they had fucking ENORMOUS speakers blasting "BE A MAN!" as they drove down the street. It was almost as loud as the time I thought the apocalypse came during the Rose Parade.



GO 'CATS!

P.S. Speaking of Disney songs, I think someone needs to re-write "Under the Sea" for me, talking about how great this school is. And whenever I forget they can sing it to me.

i have another pretentious pete story.

Vote Sam for House of Reps.

So I just voted myself to the House of Representatives for my district. A district which, if you're keeping track, is in the middle of Los Angeles. Bearing that in mind, I'd have to say that my chances of winning are pretty good. This is, of course, keeping in mind that there was only ONE candidate for this position on the ballot...the same guy who's been doing it for years. But, well, part of me didn't want to be a follower. Part of me was like, "No, I'm not gonna be like everyone else. I'm gonna vote for....for....Mickey Mouse? No. Brad Paisley? No. Wait. HOW ABOUT I VOTE FOR ME?!"

So I did.

Wish me luck, folks.

Just found out today that my favorite musician (BRAD PAISLEY) does a version of my favorite Christmas song (SILVER BELLS). Um. Omg. My life is great.

Just had the most embarrassing moment ever.

So I've been getting really frustrated cos most people in my dorm don't hold the door for others. And it just PISSES me off to no end. I'm not used to it because most people aren't so ill-bred that they don't know that you shouldn't let the door fall back and smack the person behind you. But I guess since all the rooms in my new dorm are singles, people here are just trapped in their own minds.

So today after like the 5th million person in this person left the door to do what it does best--that is, swinging back into the next person in the doorway...aka me--I thought in my head, "WHAT A FUCKTARD!"

Except I didn't think it in my head. I accidentally OUT LOUD called the person in front of me a fucktard. Which caused him to turn around, stare at me with a completely bewildered expression on his face....and there was me, with my jaw dropped in shock. I thought the best thing for me to do would be to turn around to look behind me, as if looking for this bizarre person who randomly let out a "WHAT A FUCKTARD!" Except it turned out that I was the only other person, so it was obvious that it was me....


Oh man....

Christmas in October

Last Friday after my last class I got in my car and drove to the shopping center. On the way, the radio station said some station in Missouri or Wisconsin or some other irrelevant state had already switched over to Christmas music.

And, well, I figure that if a radio station has already switched over....I can switch over.

For those of you who are unaware: I fucking love Christmas. Specifically, I love Christmas music. Specifically, "Silver Bells" and "Snoopy's Christmas." I don't care that I'm Jewish, I don't care that the words to some of the songs I love go against my religion...... I remember that I used to LOVE the Christmas show my elementary school did every year, and I remember one year I volunteered to sing a Christmas song with my friends just because I love Christmas songs so much.

I love Christmas. Christmas Eve especially. It didn't matter to me when I was little that there would be no presents for me in the morning, I LOVED spending Christmas Eve with our Christian friends, and then running back over there in the morning to see waht my friends got.

I don't know. I guess what I like about Christmas is that for a brief period of time, everyone goes out of their way to be nice to each other. Everything just seems nicer at Christmas, and there always seems to be more hope for peace....

I think the only time I've ever felt uncomfortable about Christmas music was when my mom and I were riding around in the car around Christmas and this song came on:

Dear Mr Jesus
Uploaded by SEPTRE

And we just looked at each other with the most appalled stares.

This song appalls us, but we have no problems belting things like "CHRIST THE LORD!" in songs like "O Come All Ye Faithful."

Oh man....there's a chance I might get to go back to Israel over winter break for a week or so, but it'd be over Christmas. And I remember how badly I missed Christmas last year when I was in Israel over it.....so....now I'm torn.

I CAN'T WAIT FOR CHRISTMAS!!!!!