I’d like to take this opportunity to publicly thank G-d, Jesus, Mohammad and Dora the Explorer. Whichever one of you guys was responsible for this, thanks!
My friends keep making fun of me because all day I’ve been giggling and smiling and singing. They’re like, “What brought on this sudden change in character?!” And I spin around in circles singing a Beatles song, and I yell, “I’m SUPPOSED to be like this!” And I am. Today has been a wonderful, wonderful reminder that one day—and one day SOON—I will no longer have to work in that terrible room, hunched over a table, mindlessly folding the skid-marked underwear of these hateful, lazy kibbutzniks. One day I’ll be in the army and I’ll get a chance to work with people who are roughly my age, not post-menopausal. You know what this means?
DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS??
It means…IT MEANS THE MOST IMPORTANT CONCEPT IN JUDAISM: HOPE. It means there’s hope! GAAAAA, it’s wonderful!
[Update: After a four hour break I was called in to work….but only for about an hour and a half more. All in all, a good day!]
You know what’s even more incredible? Next week we’re going to Gadna for the week. For those of you who don’t know what Gadna is, it’s this thing where you go to a base and you get to run around and pretend that you’re a soldier. In short, a five year old boy’s dream. I’m not a five year old boy, but I’m also pretty excited. Basically you get an old uniform, clean up your room a lot, run around a lot, learn some shit, and at the end of the week you get to shoot an M 16. Not gonna lie, as an American I’m pretty excited about shooting the gun.
A soldier came to talk to us the other day about what to expect, and I noticed her little shoulder tag thing was a bow and arrow, which made me smile. I imagined an entire battalion of Israeli archers, taking on Arab armies Robin Hood-style. Maybe Arabs would send in tanks, and our 42nd Robin Hood Battalion would stop them at the border, and say with thick English accents, “Wouldn’t you prefer to settle this like gentleman?” A medieval-style archery contest would ensue, during which the fate of Eretz Yisrael would be decided over how many points each side scored.
Maybe Iran would send a nuke over here, and our army/air force/whatever would scramble to come up with a way to intercept the nuke with our technology, but our 98th Robin Hood Battalion Airborne Division would swing in—either from a rope, or a large window curtain, or a chandelier--and intercept the missile, comically splitting it in half with a single arrow shot.
The new face of the Israeli Army?Actually, come to think of it, wouldn’t it be really interesting if armies had historic fighting styles units? Maybe something like an entire Medieval Siege Unit would be awesome. You’d have guys with crossbows, catapults, and giant vats of tar that you could pour on the enemy from on top of castles. Or maybe the Israeli army could have a Roman Conquest Unit, and their main form of defense could be doing the Testudo formation. I mean, it would certainly give us an element of surprise against the enemy. Or an Redcoats from the Revolutionary War Era Unit, where the battle tactics consist of simply marching in lines towards the enemy wearing BRIGHT RED uniforms that basically scream, “SHOOT ME!”
(This has made me realize that when I grow up I shall have to join one of those historical battle re-enactment societies.)
And then after Gadna, it’s only a short time until actual army (though I still don’t know the exact date I start….).
More good news? Tomorrow I don’t have to go to class because I am doing undercover work for the airport. Okay, mayhap I dramatized that a bit. Basically I am getting paid a hundred dollars because I am the only person in the ulpan without a Jewish-sounding first or last name. So, shout out to my father the goy for the last name, and shout out to ma for naming me after a witch from a TV show instead of my (non-existent) Great Auntie Rivkaleh or something like that. So I get to go, pretend that I’m a Christian tourist going home, and go through the airport security and people will be watching and seeing how good the security is.
The other day I got quite drunk (apparently I kept shouting at people in French thinking I was speaking in Hebrew), and woke up the next morning and was like, “Oh fuck, this is gonna end in tears. And vomit.” I was supposed to be on a field trip with my class, but I knew there was no way that was gonna fly. So I’m lying in bed and the fucking House Mom comes banging on my door screaming at me that if I’m sick then I have to go to the health clinic here on the kibbutz. Which really pissed me off. First of all, a hangover does not require a visit with a doctor, and second of all, even if I were just sick it doesn’t mean I have to go to the doctor. So I got into a HUGE argument with her, with her screaming over and over again that I HAVE to go to the doctor, and me screaming that I just needed sleep and I’d be fine. She screams, “YOU ARE DOCTOR?!?!?!” And I’m like, “NO, BUT EVEN SO I DON’T THINK IT’S NECESSARY TO GO TO THE DOCTOR FOR EVERY LITTLE THING. You people here are friggin’ crazy, you sneeze and you call a fucking ambulance! Jesus, I don’t need to go to the effin health clinic! Oh, and while we’re talking, [now switching to Hebrew] why do you ALWAYS speak to me in English!?!?!?”
And she just fucked off. Oh my goodness, it was incredible. I have a feeling she didn’t understand half of what I said.
The whole health clinic thing here bothers me. People go to the health clinic for EVERY little ache and pain. It makes it so that there is always a huge line at the health clinic, and so when I had to go there to get my blood test results, I had to wait in a very long line. I guess it’s cos healthcare here is free, whereas at home it costs a lot to go to the doctor so we only go when it’s important. While I don’t like that going to the doctor is expensive, I am glad in that it teaches people to be a little bit more…self-reliant. I know when I have something serious and when I’m just a bit sick, whereas people on this kibbutz seem to have no fucking clue about themselves.
(They also have no fucking clue about how small their laundry cubbies are in relation to how much laundry they have--Pick up your fucking laundry already, Number 93, cos we have nowhere to put all of your stuff!--So basically people on this kibbutz are wholly clueless.)
Another thing I am happy about? I can understand little kids’ TV with little effort. My favorite? I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but DORA the Mother-Fuckin’ Explorer! Sometimes content-wise it’s a bit confusing because sometimes things will be inexplicably related to Hispanic culture, because in the English version she’s supposed to be teaching kids Spanish and Hispanic culture whereas in the Hebrew version we’re supposed to be learning English.
Oh Jesus. I feel like such a perv and weirdo and idiot, watching TV for little kids. This is what immigration does to people. Unless you move to England/Canada/Australia, in which case watching TV for “grown-ups” isn’t too much of a challenge.
One sad thing about today? The person I considered my closest friend in Israel has moved up north today to begin prep for army enlistment. So that was kind of depressing. I know very few people in this country, and now those that I do know are starting to move away from this central location. I’m terrible with goodbyes. I think I came across as a cold bitch in attempt to not get upset and emotional or whatever. Urgh…..
My English teacher in high school told me that you should always have a copy of the essay “Self-Reliance” when you go onto new chapters in your life. I carried a copy with me to summer camp, to college, and finally to Israel. Each time, it was the first thing I packed. But today I figured, hey, I already know “The Good News,” and I figured going into the army my friend could probably use some sort of a boost. So I have passed on my copy of “Self-Reliance.” I’m writing this because I wanted to tell you all that if you ever doubt yourself, or need a boost, or feel like your thought doesn’t matter…..read the essay. You’ll shit yourself. You’ll be like, “YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!”
(Wow, this paragraph made me realize what a nerd I am.)
I have realized how I shall make friends in this country: I shall form a new unit in the army. The Robin Hood unit. And all the weirdos—the idealists, the romantics, the dreamers, and the nutjobs—will want to join it.
(Credit where credit is due: Picture is from The Daily Mail)
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