Sorry for another post of epic length. But a couple hours ago I decided that I would go back to the US to finish my degree and then return to Israel.
Crap. I felt so convinced that that was the right move. But my more religious friend just came in. He missed class today to go to Hebron with his family, and he was telling me all about it because he figured (quite rightly) that I’d be interested in it. And I got so jealous. Unbearably jealous, like I couldn’t stand the fact that someone else had been to a part of Israel that I haven’t been to yet, and I couldn’t stand the fact that if I left then my chances of ever getting there would be even lower. And then I remembered how my teacher was lecturing us on how we just need to give up the West Bank, and how hearing her say that made me want to walk right out of class and into a settlement. And holy shit, do I want to stay. I feel like I can’t even afford to go back the US for even two years. Shit. What should I do???
Also, if I go, I’ll feel like I sacrificed some of my idealism. If there one single thing that I like about myself, it’s that I believe in things really strongly. There are certain things that I believe in strongly that I know aren’t true (like that there’s an alternate me that lives in the mirror), and there are certain things that I believe really strongly that are objective, like simple morality, and there are certain things I believe really strongly that are subjective, like life philosophies and whatever. Whatever I believe though, I believe really strongly. And I believed in the concept of Zionism and Israel strongly enough to decide to move here without having ever been here before (and I finally did move here after only being here for ten days), and I’m very proud of that. It’s like the slogan: “Life: Powered by Edison,” or whatever, except “Sam: Powered by Belief.” That’s just how I function. I feel like if I left, even if only temporarily, I’d always be a little ashamed of myself. Yes, it is total shit not having family here and having to fold towels all day, but at the same time, it’d feel like total shit to just give up because it’s too difficult. I talked about this earlier when talking about how the Americans were being douchebags to the weaker boys in ulpan, and I established that the easiest thing to do is not necessarily the correct one. I guess I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I bailed just because things are tough.
Then there’s also the whole grandma issue. My Jewish grandma has never really liked me, but when she found out I wanted to move to Israel she suddenly warmed up to me (wow, it only took her 19 years….) and told me all about how she spent her childhood training to make aliyah but how at the last minute didn’t because she married my grandpa and my grandpa didn’t want to leave the US. She told me that she didn’t want me to make the same mistake of not going to Israel if I wanted to, and she told me to not come back to the US—she said that even when she died and there would be a funeral, she said I was to stay in Israel. I protested and said that of course I’d come back if, G-d forbid, she died while I was in Israel, but then my grandma ended up yelling at me.
During one of the last phone conversations I had with her before I left, she suddenly whipped out Hebrew. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced, because my mom can’t even read basic Hebrew with vowels and probably doesn’t even know what “aba” means, and yet my grandma totally out of nowhere just whipped out conversational Hebrew that had been lying dormant since she married my grandpa in 1950 or whatever. I mean seriously, if ever there were a “What the fuck?” moment, that was it.
And you know what I learned from that? I don’t want to live in America and then when I’m like 80 whatever be on the phone with my granddaughter and unexpectedly whip out Hebrew and sadly remark about how I wish I hadn’t given up on what I dreamt about. Also, during my childhood I saw my grandma at least once a week—and she never once mentioned that she spent almost her entire childhood preparing for aliyah (she was in one of those Zionist groups that did that kind of thing). I mean, this was obviously something really important to her, and yet nothing came of it and she never told her grandkids about it until one of them totally on her own decided to try it. In fact, she didn’t really mention it to her kids either, because I told my mom about what my grandma said and she was stunned. And, I don’t mean to criticize my grandma—I only mean to draw a lesson from it--I wish my grandma HAD said something about it to her grandkids and to her kids (my mom and uncles) because now only 3/7 of her grandkids are Jewish (well, 4/7 if you want to still count my Catholic brother), and only 2/7 of her grandkids have ever been to Israel. I mean, I like Christians just fine, but I think the world could use a few more Jews…
I guess I’ll stay. Argue with me. Tell me I’m wrong, tell me I’m right. Tell me to go home—but which home?
And if you tell me to stay, then find me a fucking job that doesn’t involve laundry!
(just kidding….I’ll manage…) (also, find me a fucking family. Now THAT I’m not joking about…)
Anyway, let’s talk about something other than abandoning my country or not abandoning my country.
You know what song I just put on? “Oh What a Night!”
Loud.
You readers back in America can probably hear it right now. Can you?
Today during class the Mexican kid kept hitting on our teacher (as usual), and finally my roommate and I just lost it and burst out laughing. Like, I was laughing so hard that I broke a sweat. I thought I was going to throw up. Every single time I got a hold of myself, I’d hear my roommate giggle next to me, and then I’d just lose it again. There was a solid 30 minutes of laughter, I’d estimate, if you count the snickering and sudden uncontainable snorts that followed the cackling and giggling.
A couple days ago my mom called me, but right before she called I was on the phone with the Chilean roommate in Hebrew. So I answered my mom’s call….but then I forgot how to say “Hello.” Cos my mind was concentrating so hard on Hebrew. I forgot how to fucking say hello! So instead I just kind of stood there with the phone to my ear, wondering what to do, wondering what I COULD do if I couldn’t remember how to answer the phone in English. So my mom kind of let out a confused, “Hello…?” And then I was like, “Ah! Yes! That’s it!”
I also have to share the following exchange with you:
Hebrew Teacher: (In Hebrew) Israel has a government. The United States doesn’t have a government.
Me: (In Hebrew) What???? We DO have a government!
Teacher: (In Hebrew): No, you don’t have a government.
Me: (In English): Wait, wait wait,……..wait. I don’t think I understand, can you tell me that in English?
Teacher: (In English) The United States doesn’t have a government.
Me: (In English) (genuinely confused) Wait, what are you talking about? What have my parents been voting for all these years?
Teacher: (In English) No, you have an “mistration” [sic], not a “government.”
Me: (In English, whispered in panic to my roommate): The fuck’s a “mistration”?
Roomie: (In English, whispered back) No fucking clue.
Cue confused/blank stare from me
Teacher: (In English) You don’t have a parliament, so you don’t have a government.
Me: What????
By that point I had gotten hysterical, as if everything I ever knew about the US was wrong. If we don’t have a government like I thought we did, what else isn’t true? Did Abraham Lincoln not have a beard?! The Declaration of Independence was written by Ronald McDonald??? The nation’s capital is actually Bemidji, Minnesota????
Tell me, what the fuck do we have if we don’t have a government? And, pray tell, what’s a “mistration?” Is it like “menstruation” except for governments?
The absolute panic I had over this (AMERICA DOESN’T HAVE A GOVERNMENT?!) was like the time a few years back when I asked my mother if I could have a lemon popsicle. And she said to me, with a look of utter confusion and bewilderment on her face, “What’s THAT?” And I panicked. I had no idea how to respond to that, and I had to sit down. I thought that I had been transported into this alternate reality where lemon popsicles never existed and never would exist. I started shaking, thinking I’d have to kill myself because I’d rather not live in a reality without lemon popsicles. Tears formed in my eyes as I began to wonder what else was different in this alternate reality that I was suddenly in. Did I still have friends in this reality? Did dogs exist? Did soccer still exist? Did the Laws of Gravity still apply, or was the only thing keeping me attached to the floor my will? Could I fly? Would I be in this alternate reality forever, or would I be magically transported back after I learned some important lesson like in the movies? If I were to stay in this alternate reality, would I always remember my previous reality or would eventually the memories fade until I accepted the alternate reality as the true reality? Was this new reality a reality without terrorism (this was all shortly after 9/11), or were there even worse alternate reality terrorists? And how did the dimension of time function in this new reality? My mind whirled with all these thoughts, and I thought I was going to vomit.
My mother was confused that I was shaking and that all the color had drained from my face, so she clarified her question: “What on Earth is a ‘lenpsicle?”
Turns out my mom didn’t just hear me right. But for a minute there, my world was in a state of chaos. I think I need to tone down my imagination a bit….
Also, some of my friends here tell me, “Sam(my), you think too much.” So I think I’d better keep this story to myself……
Remember how I said that I have like no memories associated with Jewish/Israeli songs? Well, I got three for ya that I just remembered:
1) I used to hate song time during Sunday School. Except for “Miriam’s Song.” I hated the song, but I loved one line. So I’d sit quietly for the entire song until it got towards the end, and when it got time for my favorite line, I’d just belt out: “WE’VE JUST LIVED THROUGH A MIRACLE—WE’RE GONNA DANCE TONIGHT!!” And everyone would turn around turn around to see where this appalling noise had come from, and it’d just be lil’ ol’ me…..
2) A couple years ago during the Chabad Telethon (which I watched on TV with my dad), the song “Moshiach” came on. And my dad got up and started singing and dancing. It was bizarre. My dad does not know a word of Hebrew, yet he was singing along to the song by making sounds that sounded pretty close to the Hebrew. And I was stunned, so I was like, “Dad, how the hell do you know this song??” And he said, “What, you think I’ve lived with Jews for 25 years now and haven’t learned anything?”
3) I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before since this never fails to make me laugh. At home in LA we live next to a really Orthodox neighborhood, and during Shabbos and during the High Holidays especially, whenever my family drives by that area and sees everyone in their black hats and long skirts, my dad likes to sing the score from “Fiddler on the Roof” out the car window. Usually the rest of the family joins in, but my dad is the conductor of this merry choir. And my dad has got some serious lungs, so he just belts it. “TRADITIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!!!!” In fact, that’s my dad’s response to most things. I told him a Haredi boy spat on me in Jerusalem, and over the phone he sang to me, “TRADITIOOOOOOOOOOON!!!!!”
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Thanks for the heads up
It's Country Music Shabbat.
And let me make one thing clear: I am bringing you today's Country Music Shabbat as a 100 percent Jewish girl from her home--the Jewish State. (Um, that'd be "Israel" for you retards out there... :-) ) I'll explain in a sec.
Brad Paisley's "Letter to Me." It's supposed to be addressed to himself at high school age, but I think the point is that things always end up working out but you just don't realize it at the time that things suck. you know?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fqtbMHfpXY&feature=user
(more capitalist shit.)
Anyway, first off I want to thank people for commenting, IM-ing me, facebook messaging me, e-mailing me and whatever about all this shit I've been writing about.
Well, I had a really cool dream last night. It wasn't a creative dream, which is always a little disappointing. When it's a creative dream you get to fly, or you get to be fluent in Mandarin, or Colin Firth marries you. No no no, this was a memory. I got to re-live a memory, which I guess is pretty cool in itself.
So in my dream/memory, I was in Arkansas with my family visiting my granny for Christmas. It was the last time I ever saw her and I was 12. On Christmas Day we went downstairs to the hotel lobby to drive over to my Granny's house when the guy at the front desk said, "Merry Christmas!" Normally when I hear "Merry Christmas" I just respond by saying, "Merry Christmas!" right back because it's just easier that way. But while everyone in my family shouted, "Merry Christmas to you too!" right back at the guy, I decided to call out, "We're actually Jewish, but thanks and Merry Christmas to you too!" And before I could register the guy at the front desk's response, I felt my dad grab my arm and hurry me outside. I don't think I've ever seen my dad so freaked out in my entire life, even after he almost fell into a pond filled with ferocious carp. And he said, "Don't you EVER tell people here that you're Jewish!!!"
I woke up almost immediately afterwards (which is unfortunate because there were a lot of HAPPY memories I would have liked to have re-lived from that day), and I was surprised at how upset I found myself. I mean, I was aware that this event had happened, but in the 7/almost 8 years that have since passed I sort of found myself laughing it off. But actually remembering it from that perspective, I remember how absolutely terrifying it was. Wait a minute, I'm in my own country, in a state where my own family lives and has lived for generations, and I need to be afraid to tell people that I'm Jewish?
Someone "up there" clearly wants me to remember I'm Jewish. I don't know if it's G-d or Jesus or the Sandman, but whichever one is responsible--thanks for the heads up, buddy!
I couldn't go back to sleep because I kept thinking about all this shit. A couple weeks ago, I could have told you so many things at the drop of a hat about how I've felt like a guest in the US, or how Zionist I feel, but I had become so focused on how Israel isn't my country. To name a few:
--My parents sent me to French camp in Minnesota for a month, not realizing that it was run by Evangelical Christians. And the vast majority of campers were also Evangelical Christians. I got into a lot of arguments with people being one of the only Jews there, and it culminated with an exciting event one Sunday. One boy who had been spending most of camp time quoting the Bible like it was his job invited me to church, and I thanked him politely but reminded him that I was Jewish. And he got upset and started spewing Bible verses (and I mean, Jesus, he was 15!!!!!), and telling me I was going to Hell. I tried to just block him out, occasionally I let out a faint, "Yeah, if I'm going to Hell then I'll see you there, buddy..." But he just kept going on and on against the Jews. So finally I just got up and kicked him in the crotch as hard as I could. And walked away. And that was the end of that.
--Also at French camp: I managed to get into a verbal spat with the only other Jew in camp. We got called in to talk with the camp director, and when she was informed the kinds of things that were said, she said to both of us, not realizing that she was speaking to the only two non-Christians in the camp, "Well, that's not very Christianly of you two!" And the two of us, even though we hated each other, just looked at each other and started laughing hysterically.
--Every single time the Jews for Jesus showed up at my college, I got into arguments with them over Torah. (Hey, now that I think of it, I got into TWO arguments with Jews for Jesus since I got to Israel!) I couldn't stand that they were trying to get people to not be Jewish.
--When that horrible anti-Israel lobby book came out in the US, I went from bookstore to bookstore and hid/turned around all the copies.
--Even my dad, my Christian dad, is a Zionist.
You know what else? I am one stubborn bitch. I ain't going anywhere.
Oh man....I think we're just going to have to be patient with me. I'm a person in a new country without family. Sometimes I'm going to want to glorify The Old Country just because it'd be easier to go back, and you'll just have to be patient for me. Occasionally I'm going to forget how proud I felt on Yom Ha'Atzmaut, or how I cried upon arrival, or even the stupid things like how it makes me smile that I always hear someone calling for their friend Avi or how I find it amusing that there is pudding at breakfast. Yeah, occasionally I'm gonna get homesick and stressed and whatever and I'm going to forget all that, But eventually I'll remember that I left The Old Country for a reason.
And let me make one thing clear: I am bringing you today's Country Music Shabbat as a 100 percent Jewish girl from her home--the Jewish State. (Um, that'd be "Israel" for you retards out there... :-) ) I'll explain in a sec.
Brad Paisley's "Letter to Me." It's supposed to be addressed to himself at high school age, but I think the point is that things always end up working out but you just don't realize it at the time that things suck. you know?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fqtbMHfpXY&feature=user
(more capitalist shit.)
Anyway, first off I want to thank people for commenting, IM-ing me, facebook messaging me, e-mailing me and whatever about all this shit I've been writing about.
Well, I had a really cool dream last night. It wasn't a creative dream, which is always a little disappointing. When it's a creative dream you get to fly, or you get to be fluent in Mandarin, or Colin Firth marries you. No no no, this was a memory. I got to re-live a memory, which I guess is pretty cool in itself.
So in my dream/memory, I was in Arkansas with my family visiting my granny for Christmas. It was the last time I ever saw her and I was 12. On Christmas Day we went downstairs to the hotel lobby to drive over to my Granny's house when the guy at the front desk said, "Merry Christmas!" Normally when I hear "Merry Christmas" I just respond by saying, "Merry Christmas!" right back because it's just easier that way. But while everyone in my family shouted, "Merry Christmas to you too!" right back at the guy, I decided to call out, "We're actually Jewish, but thanks and Merry Christmas to you too!" And before I could register the guy at the front desk's response, I felt my dad grab my arm and hurry me outside. I don't think I've ever seen my dad so freaked out in my entire life, even after he almost fell into a pond filled with ferocious carp. And he said, "Don't you EVER tell people here that you're Jewish!!!"
I woke up almost immediately afterwards (which is unfortunate because there were a lot of HAPPY memories I would have liked to have re-lived from that day), and I was surprised at how upset I found myself. I mean, I was aware that this event had happened, but in the 7/almost 8 years that have since passed I sort of found myself laughing it off. But actually remembering it from that perspective, I remember how absolutely terrifying it was. Wait a minute, I'm in my own country, in a state where my own family lives and has lived for generations, and I need to be afraid to tell people that I'm Jewish?
Someone "up there" clearly wants me to remember I'm Jewish. I don't know if it's G-d or Jesus or the Sandman, but whichever one is responsible--thanks for the heads up, buddy!
I couldn't go back to sleep because I kept thinking about all this shit. A couple weeks ago, I could have told you so many things at the drop of a hat about how I've felt like a guest in the US, or how Zionist I feel, but I had become so focused on how Israel isn't my country. To name a few:
--My parents sent me to French camp in Minnesota for a month, not realizing that it was run by Evangelical Christians. And the vast majority of campers were also Evangelical Christians. I got into a lot of arguments with people being one of the only Jews there, and it culminated with an exciting event one Sunday. One boy who had been spending most of camp time quoting the Bible like it was his job invited me to church, and I thanked him politely but reminded him that I was Jewish. And he got upset and started spewing Bible verses (and I mean, Jesus, he was 15!!!!!), and telling me I was going to Hell. I tried to just block him out, occasionally I let out a faint, "Yeah, if I'm going to Hell then I'll see you there, buddy..." But he just kept going on and on against the Jews. So finally I just got up and kicked him in the crotch as hard as I could. And walked away. And that was the end of that.
--Also at French camp: I managed to get into a verbal spat with the only other Jew in camp. We got called in to talk with the camp director, and when she was informed the kinds of things that were said, she said to both of us, not realizing that she was speaking to the only two non-Christians in the camp, "Well, that's not very Christianly of you two!" And the two of us, even though we hated each other, just looked at each other and started laughing hysterically.
--Every single time the Jews for Jesus showed up at my college, I got into arguments with them over Torah. (Hey, now that I think of it, I got into TWO arguments with Jews for Jesus since I got to Israel!) I couldn't stand that they were trying to get people to not be Jewish.
--When that horrible anti-Israel lobby book came out in the US, I went from bookstore to bookstore and hid/turned around all the copies.
--Even my dad, my Christian dad, is a Zionist.
You know what else? I am one stubborn bitch. I ain't going anywhere.
Oh man....I think we're just going to have to be patient with me. I'm a person in a new country without family. Sometimes I'm going to want to glorify The Old Country just because it'd be easier to go back, and you'll just have to be patient for me. Occasionally I'm going to forget how proud I felt on Yom Ha'Atzmaut, or how I cried upon arrival, or even the stupid things like how it makes me smile that I always hear someone calling for their friend Avi or how I find it amusing that there is pudding at breakfast. Yeah, occasionally I'm gonna get homesick and stressed and whatever and I'm going to forget all that, But eventually I'll remember that I left The Old Country for a reason.
Friday, June 13, 2008
19 years of Toby Keith? Jesus Christ.......even I'm not that cruel!
I just sat down to rant bout something unrelated to aliyah/yerida when this fellow ulpanist looked over my shoulder.
You gotta understand that he's only Jewish in the sense that he was born to a Jewish mother and isn't Christian. That's about it. He doesn't know anything about anything and doesn't go to synagogue (I'm not judging, I'm just trying to get you to visualize/understand a bit about this guy).
He looks over my shoulder and he sees that, next to the facebook and the AIM, I have a youtube screen up. And country music is playing in my headphones and a guy in a cowboy hat is jumping around onstage with a guitar. The guy asks if I'm listening to country music, I tell him OF COURSE, and he's like, "You actually LIKE country music?" And I said yes.
"Ah, see, that's how we know you're 1/2 Christian!"
Which I think is true. Even the unaffiliated, non-practicing Jew thinks there's something definitely more Christian about me.
Tonight I was eating Shabbat dinner in the kibbutz dining hall when everyone started singing Shabbat songs out loud. All the other ulpanists knew the words, but I didn't. Which I thought was weird for a Jew. Especially when you consider that I know all the lyrics to any Christmas song you can think of. And then I thought, "Wow, I never had Shabbat dinner with my family."
Remember how I mentioned the more religious ulpanist who kept telling me that, despite whatever conclusion I drew, Israel is my country and America isn't? I would never actually do this, but I want to print up all the pages I've written about how I'm not Jewish enough to be in this country and shove it in his face. What do I mean by "not Jewish enough?" I'm Jewish enough to have been born here, but I'm not Jewish enough to come here at age 19 and act as if I have some special right to be here that my Christian neighbors at home don't have. If I were raised in an Orthodox Jewish household, I think I'd feel different. You understand? I just want to rub his stupid insensitive nose in all this information that contradicts what he blindly believes is true (that Israel is the country where ALL Jews need to be living), and then I want to top it off by locking him in a room and blasting Toby Keith through the loud speakers. After 19 years of that, maybe then I'll let him out and ask him, "Do you understand me now?"
You gotta understand that he's only Jewish in the sense that he was born to a Jewish mother and isn't Christian. That's about it. He doesn't know anything about anything and doesn't go to synagogue (I'm not judging, I'm just trying to get you to visualize/understand a bit about this guy).
He looks over my shoulder and he sees that, next to the facebook and the AIM, I have a youtube screen up. And country music is playing in my headphones and a guy in a cowboy hat is jumping around onstage with a guitar. The guy asks if I'm listening to country music, I tell him OF COURSE, and he's like, "You actually LIKE country music?" And I said yes.
"Ah, see, that's how we know you're 1/2 Christian!"
Which I think is true. Even the unaffiliated, non-practicing Jew thinks there's something definitely more Christian about me.
Tonight I was eating Shabbat dinner in the kibbutz dining hall when everyone started singing Shabbat songs out loud. All the other ulpanists knew the words, but I didn't. Which I thought was weird for a Jew. Especially when you consider that I know all the lyrics to any Christmas song you can think of. And then I thought, "Wow, I never had Shabbat dinner with my family."
Remember how I mentioned the more religious ulpanist who kept telling me that, despite whatever conclusion I drew, Israel is my country and America isn't? I would never actually do this, but I want to print up all the pages I've written about how I'm not Jewish enough to be in this country and shove it in his face. What do I mean by "not Jewish enough?" I'm Jewish enough to have been born here, but I'm not Jewish enough to come here at age 19 and act as if I have some special right to be here that my Christian neighbors at home don't have. If I were raised in an Orthodox Jewish household, I think I'd feel different. You understand? I just want to rub his stupid insensitive nose in all this information that contradicts what he blindly believes is true (that Israel is the country where ALL Jews need to be living), and then I want to top it off by locking him in a room and blasting Toby Keith through the loud speakers. After 19 years of that, maybe then I'll let him out and ask him, "Do you understand me now?"
maybe i AM too american to live here.
You know what I want to do when I get home? I want to be nice to immigrants. Not that I was ever mean to them, but you know, I don’t think I ever really made an effort to go out of my way to be helpful. I want to really learn Spanish, and I want to run into the fields in California where the illegal immigrants work and give them all hugs. I don’t think I’ll ever again get impatient with someone having problems with English. I’ve only been away from home for like two months now, and even already I know how horrible it is to be separated from your family in a foreign country with a foreign language with foreign customs and foreign everything. Maybe when I go home I’ll see about teaching people English or something. I don’t know.
It’s been interesting talking to my roommate about this whole should I stay or should I go thing. She actually is probably the worst person to talk to.
Last night the Arabs in the neighboring village were shooting A LOT. It was actually a little scary. And I turned to my roommate and spoke over the sounds of BLAM BLAM BOOM BLAM! “You know, it might seem silly since this is only the Arabs celebrating a wedding or something, but this is the kind of stuff—like hearing gunshots and shit like that--that makes me want to stay. I hate the thought of abandoning Israel when I know there’s not going to be peace anytime soon and when I know that there’s the whole demographic war and when I know a lot of shit’s going to go down in the future. It makes me feel bad for wanting to leave because I feel like I’m jumping ship and leaving it for everyone else to deal with.”
And she just said in the nastiest, most condescending tone, “I don’t think you understand just how serious this stuff is here.” As if somehow she had this enormous reservoir of vast knowledge and deep understanding of the roots, history and current situation of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflictt, and that I was someone who just one day happened to show up in Israel without having ever heard of it. Like, “What’s an Israel?”
I don’t know. It was a little insulting coming from someone who only two weeks ago had no idea who Ehud Olmert was.
During my conversations with her on whether or not I should return home in September, she has said, “Well, you’re too American to live in Israel full-time.” What the fuck does that mean? The English guy here is as English as they come, but is he ‘too English?’ Is the Hungarian guy ‘too Hungarian?’ I found it a little insulting, like, “Oh, the stupid little Americans are too idiotic to cross the street by themselves, but all other nationalities of the world have been crossing the street by themselves for years now.” I wanted to tell her, “Oh yeah? Well, YOU are too fucking retarded for me to allow you out of the house, Roommate.”
I mean, I took that as a challenge. Like that was a direct challenge against me and the rest of the United States, and I wanted to be like, “Oh, I will show YOU who’s too American to be here” and then live the rest of my life in Israel just to spite her.
Actually, I think THAT would be ‘too American’ of me.
Maybe she does have a point though.
I will say that, no matter what I end up deciding to do, it’s been interesting. In LA I felt like how I was—half Jewish, half “native” American. In Chicago I felt 75% percent Jewish. And now in the Jewish homeland, I feel like 100 percent American and almost not Jewish at all. It’s been interesting because when I’m in Israel, I think of my brother who converted to Catholicism….and I kind of don’t care. In fact, I understand it a little better. Back in the US, it bothered me to no end that I had a brother who abandoned Judaism, but now that I’m in Israel I realize that until last year I knew close to nothing about Judaism. So I can kind of understand why my brother might find another religion more appealing, especially considering that there are a pant load of Catholics in the US and not as many Jews. Yes, I liked Israel, yes I was Jewish, but…..that’s about it. In contrast, I like the US too, and I’m American….and I actually grew up there and know its culture/history/whatever like the back of my hand.
Look, I don't want to shit talk Israel because I still love it, even if maybe I don't want to live here, but my point is that coming to Israel for someone like me is a little bit weird when I stand back and reflect on it. I think I found out what Shavuot was like two years ago (I learned about it briefly in Sunday school, but let’s be honest….no one pays attention there), but my entire childhood I got a basket on Easter (not from my family, but from a family friend). As I mentioned yesterday, I can only remember one family Passover seder, yet I can remember countless Christmases spent either at my cousins’ house or my granny’s house. Yes, I do enjoy Israeli music or Jewish music or klezmer music, but I have a huge reserve of fond memories that are associated with patriotic American songs or country music. I’ve known the words to “Dropkick Me Jesus” since I was a baby, yet I still don’t know the words to “Yerushalayim Shel Zahav.” Yes, I like “Hatikvah,” but I also like “The Star-Spangled Banner.” And the difference is that I actually have far more memories of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” like standing with my dad and my brothers at baseball games throughout my childhood, or like the last soccer game I saw in LA where the singer couldn’t get any of the words right or any part of the tune right and my dad and I were just cracking up to no end. Or of sitting in elementary school during music class and having to be taught the words (well, we already all knew the words, but no one ever remembers the order….), and I remember how bright red the teacher got because we were all being naughty. My memories of family vacations are of seeing all the historical sites important to the US or California—I have no fond childhood memories of touring Jewish sites or seeing Israel because I never came to Israel in my childhood.
I don’t bring this up because I want to. I bring this up because whenever I get into a discussion with a more religious friend here about going home or staying, he always flatly says to me, “America is not your country. You’re Jewish. Regardless of the fact that your dad is not Jewish, your mom is Jewish so you are 100 percent Jewish, so Israel is your country. America is not your country.”
How is America not my country? My parents have pictures of me dressed up for Halloween or school plays as the Statue of Liberty, Uncle Sam, Pocahontas (that’s maybe the fifth reference to her on this blog….I feel like I should get a prize), an American colonist, an American Indian who was NOT Pocahontas (but who mysteriously dressed exactly like her…), a pioneer, etc etc etc. * Oddly enough,* they have no pictures of me dressed as Ben Gurion or Golda Meir or whatever.
My idol in elementary school, the woman I named my favorite stuffed animal and later my dog after, was Dolley Madison—an American First Lady. I remember saying the Pledge of Allegiance in the morning at elementary school, and I remember American Appreciation Day every year where every class had to get up in front of all the parents and sing songs about the US. I remember elections, the 4 of July every year, Thanksgiving, the Super Bowl…..whatever you consider American, it was part of my childhood. My dad made sure of it. My mom made sure we were Jewish by sending us to Sunday school, but my dad made sure we were American by just SURROUNDING us with everything American. Actually, on the topic of my mother and father: I look almost nothing like my mother and her side of the family, but I look almost exactly like a female version of my dad and his side of the family. My family agrees that the family member whose personality and mind that mine most resemble are my dad’s. So I mean, let’s analyze this: if first off I’m only half ethnically Jewish, and when you throw in that in almost no way do I resemble the Jewish side of my family either mentally, physically, emotionally or politically, I guess you could conclude that I’m not particularly Jewish and that I’m probably more ethnically “American.”
I mean, given this and given everything that I’ve been rambling about for what seems like years now, how is the U.S. not my country?
Tell me again why Israel is my country and why people like the Jewish Agency expect me to feel ‘at home” here.
No, that’s not me being snarky. That’s an honest request. This is still an open debate. I want you to challenge me. I want you to say, NO Sam, you’ll be making a mistake if you go home.
This is a legit discussion. How does someone who grew up in a different country--a Christian country--with ½ a Christian family come to the Jewish nation and feel at home?
Challenge me, people!
It’s been interesting talking to my roommate about this whole should I stay or should I go thing. She actually is probably the worst person to talk to.
Last night the Arabs in the neighboring village were shooting A LOT. It was actually a little scary. And I turned to my roommate and spoke over the sounds of BLAM BLAM BOOM BLAM! “You know, it might seem silly since this is only the Arabs celebrating a wedding or something, but this is the kind of stuff—like hearing gunshots and shit like that--that makes me want to stay. I hate the thought of abandoning Israel when I know there’s not going to be peace anytime soon and when I know that there’s the whole demographic war and when I know a lot of shit’s going to go down in the future. It makes me feel bad for wanting to leave because I feel like I’m jumping ship and leaving it for everyone else to deal with.”
And she just said in the nastiest, most condescending tone, “I don’t think you understand just how serious this stuff is here.” As if somehow she had this enormous reservoir of vast knowledge and deep understanding of the roots, history and current situation of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflictt, and that I was someone who just one day happened to show up in Israel without having ever heard of it. Like, “What’s an Israel?”
I don’t know. It was a little insulting coming from someone who only two weeks ago had no idea who Ehud Olmert was.
During my conversations with her on whether or not I should return home in September, she has said, “Well, you’re too American to live in Israel full-time.” What the fuck does that mean? The English guy here is as English as they come, but is he ‘too English?’ Is the Hungarian guy ‘too Hungarian?’ I found it a little insulting, like, “Oh, the stupid little Americans are too idiotic to cross the street by themselves, but all other nationalities of the world have been crossing the street by themselves for years now.” I wanted to tell her, “Oh yeah? Well, YOU are too fucking retarded for me to allow you out of the house, Roommate.”
I mean, I took that as a challenge. Like that was a direct challenge against me and the rest of the United States, and I wanted to be like, “Oh, I will show YOU who’s too American to be here” and then live the rest of my life in Israel just to spite her.
Actually, I think THAT would be ‘too American’ of me.
Maybe she does have a point though.
I will say that, no matter what I end up deciding to do, it’s been interesting. In LA I felt like how I was—half Jewish, half “native” American. In Chicago I felt 75% percent Jewish. And now in the Jewish homeland, I feel like 100 percent American and almost not Jewish at all. It’s been interesting because when I’m in Israel, I think of my brother who converted to Catholicism….and I kind of don’t care. In fact, I understand it a little better. Back in the US, it bothered me to no end that I had a brother who abandoned Judaism, but now that I’m in Israel I realize that until last year I knew close to nothing about Judaism. So I can kind of understand why my brother might find another religion more appealing, especially considering that there are a pant load of Catholics in the US and not as many Jews. Yes, I liked Israel, yes I was Jewish, but…..that’s about it. In contrast, I like the US too, and I’m American….and I actually grew up there and know its culture/history/whatever like the back of my hand.
Look, I don't want to shit talk Israel because I still love it, even if maybe I don't want to live here, but my point is that coming to Israel for someone like me is a little bit weird when I stand back and reflect on it. I think I found out what Shavuot was like two years ago (I learned about it briefly in Sunday school, but let’s be honest….no one pays attention there), but my entire childhood I got a basket on Easter (not from my family, but from a family friend). As I mentioned yesterday, I can only remember one family Passover seder, yet I can remember countless Christmases spent either at my cousins’ house or my granny’s house. Yes, I do enjoy Israeli music or Jewish music or klezmer music, but I have a huge reserve of fond memories that are associated with patriotic American songs or country music. I’ve known the words to “Dropkick Me Jesus” since I was a baby, yet I still don’t know the words to “Yerushalayim Shel Zahav.” Yes, I like “Hatikvah,” but I also like “The Star-Spangled Banner.” And the difference is that I actually have far more memories of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” like standing with my dad and my brothers at baseball games throughout my childhood, or like the last soccer game I saw in LA where the singer couldn’t get any of the words right or any part of the tune right and my dad and I were just cracking up to no end. Or of sitting in elementary school during music class and having to be taught the words (well, we already all knew the words, but no one ever remembers the order….), and I remember how bright red the teacher got because we were all being naughty. My memories of family vacations are of seeing all the historical sites important to the US or California—I have no fond childhood memories of touring Jewish sites or seeing Israel because I never came to Israel in my childhood.
I don’t bring this up because I want to. I bring this up because whenever I get into a discussion with a more religious friend here about going home or staying, he always flatly says to me, “America is not your country. You’re Jewish. Regardless of the fact that your dad is not Jewish, your mom is Jewish so you are 100 percent Jewish, so Israel is your country. America is not your country.”
How is America not my country? My parents have pictures of me dressed up for Halloween or school plays as the Statue of Liberty, Uncle Sam, Pocahontas (that’s maybe the fifth reference to her on this blog….I feel like I should get a prize), an American colonist, an American Indian who was NOT Pocahontas (but who mysteriously dressed exactly like her…), a pioneer, etc etc etc. * Oddly enough,* they have no pictures of me dressed as Ben Gurion or Golda Meir or whatever.
My idol in elementary school, the woman I named my favorite stuffed animal and later my dog after, was Dolley Madison—an American First Lady. I remember saying the Pledge of Allegiance in the morning at elementary school, and I remember American Appreciation Day every year where every class had to get up in front of all the parents and sing songs about the US. I remember elections, the 4 of July every year, Thanksgiving, the Super Bowl…..whatever you consider American, it was part of my childhood. My dad made sure of it. My mom made sure we were Jewish by sending us to Sunday school, but my dad made sure we were American by just SURROUNDING us with everything American. Actually, on the topic of my mother and father: I look almost nothing like my mother and her side of the family, but I look almost exactly like a female version of my dad and his side of the family. My family agrees that the family member whose personality and mind that mine most resemble are my dad’s. So I mean, let’s analyze this: if first off I’m only half ethnically Jewish, and when you throw in that in almost no way do I resemble the Jewish side of my family either mentally, physically, emotionally or politically, I guess you could conclude that I’m not particularly Jewish and that I’m probably more ethnically “American.”
I mean, given this and given everything that I’ve been rambling about for what seems like years now, how is the U.S. not my country?
Tell me again why Israel is my country and why people like the Jewish Agency expect me to feel ‘at home” here.
No, that’s not me being snarky. That’s an honest request. This is still an open debate. I want you to challenge me. I want you to say, NO Sam, you’ll be making a mistake if you go home.
This is a legit discussion. How does someone who grew up in a different country--a Christian country--with ½ a Christian family come to the Jewish nation and feel at home?
Challenge me, people!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
advice please!
After that last post I ended up calling my mom. And crying hysterically. Which was horribly embarrassing for both parties because my family doesn't really cry.
I'm seriously considering going home. Well, not "home" to LA, but back to the United States. Which is home enough. To go back to school.
Reasons for considering going home:
-I'd get to finish a degree on time or close to on time.
-No matter where I am in the U.S. I always would have at least one close family member within 1000 miles. Right now I'm 5000 miles from one.
-I have the correct fucking accent in the US.
-No language barrier
-No required army service. This is a pro and a con. It would have been cool, but my dad did bring upt he very legit point that I am TERRIBLE when it comes to respecting authority. He cited all the times I've told teachers off in high school.....
-I was born and raised there, as has been my family for generations. I actually feel like I have claim to the land and to the culture and to the history, rather than some distant biblical connection. And, to be fair, I only have the Biblical Claim through ONE side of the family...
-My parents would buy me a car if I went back to college in the US. (Okay, i know that's a terrible reason to come home, but I just thought it was cool....)
-My parents also promised to take me to a Brad Paisley concert if I came home. (THAT is a GREAT reason to come home!!!!!)
-I don't feel Jewish enough. I've never felt less Jewish in my entire life than I feel in Israel. I feel like such a half Jew.
Basically, my complaint is that I feel like somewhere and somehow at some time someone brainwashed me into thinking the US wasn't my country. Yes, it is my fucking country. Israel is not my country. I lived in the US for 19 years of my life, and I only just saw Israel for the first time half a year ago. How is Israel more "my country" than the US? This is what I don't understand. Maybe if I was raised religious and maybe if both sides of my family were Jewish, maybe THEN I'd feel like a guest in the US. But I'm not a guest in the US. I'm at least HALF of a native, maybe a full native. In Israel though I'm just some immigrant. In Israel I feel like I'm not Jewish enough because I can only remember doing a single family Passover seder, but I can remember celebrating Christmas together every year. I missed Christmas with my family this past year because I was in Israel on birthright--and I felt sad. I missed Christmas. No, I'm not Christian and no I don't believe in Jesus, but at the same time I'm extremely American and so Christmas sort of is an American holiday as well.... I don't know.
Reasons for staying:
-My returning to the US will only make it harder for any potential children of mine to leave the US and for them to not assimilate to Christian culture.
-Staying increases my street cred
-I can become fluent in a language other than English.
-Most of all, I'd just feel so much like I simply gave up. I hate giving up, but I don't want to fuck up my life and be miserable and lonely and without family for the rest of my life just cos i'm too fucking stubborn to give up.
Right now, going home seems like an ideal fucking situation!
Advice please?
I'm seriously considering going home. Well, not "home" to LA, but back to the United States. Which is home enough. To go back to school.
Reasons for considering going home:
-I'd get to finish a degree on time or close to on time.
-No matter where I am in the U.S. I always would have at least one close family member within 1000 miles. Right now I'm 5000 miles from one.
-I have the correct fucking accent in the US.
-No language barrier
-No required army service. This is a pro and a con. It would have been cool, but my dad did bring upt he very legit point that I am TERRIBLE when it comes to respecting authority. He cited all the times I've told teachers off in high school.....
-I was born and raised there, as has been my family for generations. I actually feel like I have claim to the land and to the culture and to the history, rather than some distant biblical connection. And, to be fair, I only have the Biblical Claim through ONE side of the family...
-My parents would buy me a car if I went back to college in the US. (Okay, i know that's a terrible reason to come home, but I just thought it was cool....)
-My parents also promised to take me to a Brad Paisley concert if I came home. (THAT is a GREAT reason to come home!!!!!)
-I don't feel Jewish enough. I've never felt less Jewish in my entire life than I feel in Israel. I feel like such a half Jew.
Basically, my complaint is that I feel like somewhere and somehow at some time someone brainwashed me into thinking the US wasn't my country. Yes, it is my fucking country. Israel is not my country. I lived in the US for 19 years of my life, and I only just saw Israel for the first time half a year ago. How is Israel more "my country" than the US? This is what I don't understand. Maybe if I was raised religious and maybe if both sides of my family were Jewish, maybe THEN I'd feel like a guest in the US. But I'm not a guest in the US. I'm at least HALF of a native, maybe a full native. In Israel though I'm just some immigrant. In Israel I feel like I'm not Jewish enough because I can only remember doing a single family Passover seder, but I can remember celebrating Christmas together every year. I missed Christmas with my family this past year because I was in Israel on birthright--and I felt sad. I missed Christmas. No, I'm not Christian and no I don't believe in Jesus, but at the same time I'm extremely American and so Christmas sort of is an American holiday as well.... I don't know.
Reasons for staying:
-My returning to the US will only make it harder for any potential children of mine to leave the US and for them to not assimilate to Christian culture.
-Staying increases my street cred
-I can become fluent in a language other than English.
-Most of all, I'd just feel so much like I simply gave up. I hate giving up, but I don't want to fuck up my life and be miserable and lonely and without family for the rest of my life just cos i'm too fucking stubborn to give up.
Right now, going home seems like an ideal fucking situation!
Advice please?
more about merka
First off before I say anything else, I want to wish loyal reader/awesome Jew Abraham a very happy birthday! (And, next year in Jerusalem!)
Now, on to what I want to say today:
First off, I noticed that immigrants (for the sake of simplicity I'm going to count myself as one) have many "Oh fuck, is THAT was xyz means????? All this time I've been saying it and I thought it meant zyx!!!"
One of my friends found out yesterday that the many times he's said something like, "I refuse!" (which apparently he does in conversation with his co-workers all the time), he's actually been saying, "I clean!" or something like that.
Today Fat Bitch tried to talk to me, and in mid-sentence she turns to French Bitch and asks in Hebrew, "What's her name again?" As if I couldn't understand. I wanted to be like, you fucking know i understand you so just ask ME directly. And French Bitch responded, "Amanda."
Urgh. I hate that name.
It has passed the point of being humorous that they can't remember my name at work, and it has now crossed into "sad" territory. Is Samantha really so exotic that it takes over TWO months to remember it?
Bizarrely, Cold Bitch now is the only one who consistently remembers my name and--GET THIS--she bought me ice cream today!!!!
MOST IMPORTANTLY: Never have I wanted to pull on some cowboy boots and kick some foreigner ass more than I did today.
The Mexican ulpanist who now works next door came in to chat with Fat Bitch, and Fat Bitch started insulting American movies. She started spewing out some shit about how Americans don't understand art, and how everythign in America--especially films-- is showy and fake. First of all, saying ALL American movies are x or y or z is like saying ALL Israelis are named Avi, or ALL Muslims are terrorists, or ALL French food is good. Second of all, what the hell is the matter with a movie just being funny or silly or stupid entertainment? Life's already too fucking serious as it is....
She started saying all this shit about America in Hebrew as if I couldn't understand, and I just wanted to punch her.
Later on, I was folding towels. Normally I'm supposed to fold shirts if there are shirts and towels at the same time, but there was a HUGE back up in the laundry room and this one cart of towels was just sitting there for over 4 days. So I'm folding towels, and French Bitch is in the middle of her fifth hour-long break of the day when she catches sight of me. She runs over (though I think for French people, you shouldn't say they run. They "ritz." Because every time they walk, they walk like they think they are the absolute shit. They put on the ritz.) So she ritzes on over my way, and she yells in Hebrew, "WHY ARE YOU FOLDING TOWELS????" I thought, how I was going to explain this in Hebrew....they get angry at me for folding towels sometimes because they have the following logic: "Breathing is more important than eating, so let's ONLY breathe." No. You need to eat too, you just need to breathe more. Yeah, shirts are more important than towels, but you still need towels.
Instead I settled on, "Ci hem higioo kodem." Which I believe is something like, "Cos they got here first." Which they did. They got here four days before the shirts. And I look up to see her response.
She looks at me, and then replies by mocking the American accent: "Ci him hee-gee-OOOOOOOO KO-DIM!" It was the most appallingly mean impersonation of an American accent and the most completely unnecessary mockery of me personally that I've heard in a while. She sounded like how an even more retarded version of George Bush would sound like if George Bush could speak Hebrew. And then she cackled at me, as if she couldn't believe how stupid I sounded.
I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry/die, and I never wanted to speak Hebrew ever again. I don't understand why everyone has to be so fucking mean. Go surrender to someone, I wanted to tell her. You fucking French Bitch. Instead I settled on the Chaval Al Hazman Principle which, if you'll remember, is that if you say something horrible to someone who doesn't speak your language well but you say it with a smile, they won't know they've been insulted. Unfortunately this woman knows basic English, so I'd have to REALLY make an effort to pick strange words. So after a few minutes, I look up from my pile of shirts that I've switched to folding, and I smile andcall out, "[French Bitch]!" She turns to look at me. "Ani lo yodaat ech omrim et zeh b'ivrit, az.....ani adaber b'anglit: [French Bitch], your soul is one I loathe, cowardly native of my family's primitive origin."
(To understand this, you have to understand that my Christian side of my family has very distant French roots. Though my last name is a bastardized form of these roots, we are only very MINORLY French and probably the most recent person to recognize a member of my family as "French" rather than "American" or something else is Pochahontas. If you understand what I'm saying.....)
And, marvelously, she just smiled back because she had no idea what the fuck I was saying. But I was smiling. So SURELY I must have said something nice.
Also, One of my friends here makes fun of the way that all Americans like to say that the United States is the greatest country on earth--it's not just me that does it, it's the other Americans as well, even the official immigrants here. Well, I noticed here that the people from places where you don't brag about your country brag about themselves all the fucking time. They think that they personally are the greatest thing ever to grace the earth. Well, I'd rather not brag about myself but brag about my country all the time. Personally, I think that's a better thing to do, because when you brag about your country, you're taking pride in your fellow citizens and not in yourself.
Anyway, I'm getting really sick of getting made fun of all the time for having an American accent, and I'm getting sick of having to listen to all this shit about what a crap country the U.S. is.
Then again, at college back in America I was getting sick and tired of hearing shit about what a crap place Israel is. So.....I guess I just can't win!
Now, on to what I want to say today:
First off, I noticed that immigrants (for the sake of simplicity I'm going to count myself as one) have many "Oh fuck, is THAT was xyz means????? All this time I've been saying it and I thought it meant zyx!!!"
One of my friends found out yesterday that the many times he's said something like, "I refuse!" (which apparently he does in conversation with his co-workers all the time), he's actually been saying, "I clean!" or something like that.
Today Fat Bitch tried to talk to me, and in mid-sentence she turns to French Bitch and asks in Hebrew, "What's her name again?" As if I couldn't understand. I wanted to be like, you fucking know i understand you so just ask ME directly. And French Bitch responded, "Amanda."
Urgh. I hate that name.
It has passed the point of being humorous that they can't remember my name at work, and it has now crossed into "sad" territory. Is Samantha really so exotic that it takes over TWO months to remember it?
Bizarrely, Cold Bitch now is the only one who consistently remembers my name and--GET THIS--she bought me ice cream today!!!!
MOST IMPORTANTLY: Never have I wanted to pull on some cowboy boots and kick some foreigner ass more than I did today.
The Mexican ulpanist who now works next door came in to chat with Fat Bitch, and Fat Bitch started insulting American movies. She started spewing out some shit about how Americans don't understand art, and how everythign in America--especially films-- is showy and fake. First of all, saying ALL American movies are x or y or z is like saying ALL Israelis are named Avi, or ALL Muslims are terrorists, or ALL French food is good. Second of all, what the hell is the matter with a movie just being funny or silly or stupid entertainment? Life's already too fucking serious as it is....
She started saying all this shit about America in Hebrew as if I couldn't understand, and I just wanted to punch her.
Later on, I was folding towels. Normally I'm supposed to fold shirts if there are shirts and towels at the same time, but there was a HUGE back up in the laundry room and this one cart of towels was just sitting there for over 4 days. So I'm folding towels, and French Bitch is in the middle of her fifth hour-long break of the day when she catches sight of me. She runs over (though I think for French people, you shouldn't say they run. They "ritz." Because every time they walk, they walk like they think they are the absolute shit. They put on the ritz.) So she ritzes on over my way, and she yells in Hebrew, "WHY ARE YOU FOLDING TOWELS????" I thought, how I was going to explain this in Hebrew....they get angry at me for folding towels sometimes because they have the following logic: "Breathing is more important than eating, so let's ONLY breathe." No. You need to eat too, you just need to breathe more. Yeah, shirts are more important than towels, but you still need towels.
Instead I settled on, "Ci hem higioo kodem." Which I believe is something like, "Cos they got here first." Which they did. They got here four days before the shirts. And I look up to see her response.
She looks at me, and then replies by mocking the American accent: "Ci him hee-gee-OOOOOOOO KO-DIM!" It was the most appallingly mean impersonation of an American accent and the most completely unnecessary mockery of me personally that I've heard in a while. She sounded like how an even more retarded version of George Bush would sound like if George Bush could speak Hebrew. And then she cackled at me, as if she couldn't believe how stupid I sounded.
I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry/die, and I never wanted to speak Hebrew ever again. I don't understand why everyone has to be so fucking mean. Go surrender to someone, I wanted to tell her. You fucking French Bitch. Instead I settled on the Chaval Al Hazman Principle which, if you'll remember, is that if you say something horrible to someone who doesn't speak your language well but you say it with a smile, they won't know they've been insulted. Unfortunately this woman knows basic English, so I'd have to REALLY make an effort to pick strange words. So after a few minutes, I look up from my pile of shirts that I've switched to folding, and I smile andcall out, "[French Bitch]!" She turns to look at me. "Ani lo yodaat ech omrim et zeh b'ivrit, az.....ani adaber b'anglit: [French Bitch], your soul is one I loathe, cowardly native of my family's primitive origin."
(To understand this, you have to understand that my Christian side of my family has very distant French roots. Though my last name is a bastardized form of these roots, we are only very MINORLY French and probably the most recent person to recognize a member of my family as "French" rather than "American" or something else is Pochahontas. If you understand what I'm saying.....)
And, marvelously, she just smiled back because she had no idea what the fuck I was saying. But I was smiling. So SURELY I must have said something nice.
Also, One of my friends here makes fun of the way that all Americans like to say that the United States is the greatest country on earth--it's not just me that does it, it's the other Americans as well, even the official immigrants here. Well, I noticed here that the people from places where you don't brag about your country brag about themselves all the fucking time. They think that they personally are the greatest thing ever to grace the earth. Well, I'd rather not brag about myself but brag about my country all the time. Personally, I think that's a better thing to do, because when you brag about your country, you're taking pride in your fellow citizens and not in yourself.
Anyway, I'm getting really sick of getting made fun of all the time for having an American accent, and I'm getting sick of having to listen to all this shit about what a crap country the U.S. is.
Then again, at college back in America I was getting sick and tired of hearing shit about what a crap place Israel is. So.....I guess I just can't win!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Well, yeah, I've got a spare brother but that's not the point....
So today I was having a conversation with an ulpanist who was raised in a very Jewish home. I mentioned that I expect my oldest brother, who converted to Catholicism, will probably get married sometime in the not too distant future. With a laugh, I mentioned that it'll be interesting to have to explain to the IDF (assuming I'm in the army at that point) that I need some leave time to go to my brother's wedding...in a church...
I ended up having an epic conversation with this ulpanist because he said if he were in the same situation, he'd be "disgusted." He said he'd basically disown his brother, or at the very least treat him like a "gentile friend" and not a brother.
I don't know. I can't say that I'm happy that my brother no longer considers himself Jewish or that I'm thrilled that I'll attend his wedding in a church, but how could I ruin what is probably going to be one of the happiest days of my brother's life by not showing up? I told this guy that this is my BROTHER we're talking about.
Him: "Yes, but you have another brother to spare, it's not like you wouldn't have ANY siblings if you disowned him!"
Me: "That's not the fucking point!!! I have TWO brothers, not one brother and a spare!"
It's a ridiculous notion. The guy kept pushing the idea that he would disown his brother if his brother did the same (although he hinted that HIS brother would never do the same because HE was raised right...unlike me and my brothers), and I feebly tried to explain that you can't just disown a sibling. He asked why, and I muttered something about pants.
One of my favorite memories from when I was little was when I was about 3 or so and my oldest brother was 8, and he found this ENORMOUS pair of pants in our house. Like, they were even too big for our dad, who is a big guy. And my brother put them on and pulled the waist over his head and he ran around the house in them...he just looked like a bodyless pair of pants running around without an owner. And shrieking with laughter I just ran after my brother because I thought he was the funniest person in the world.
"Yeah, well you could have had that memory with a GENTILE FRIEND, Sam, it doesn't have to be your brother."
I offered that my brother drove me home from middle school, and that my brother was the one who found me sitting alone in the city park by myself when I ran away from home when I was little. My brother was the one ripping nasty farts on long car trips that the entire family angrily protested but also laughed heartily at (because, let's face it, my family has a disgusting sense of humor), and it was with my brother (and my other brother) that we made up a song to serenade our new dog 14 years ago. On my 15 birthday, my friends were all out of town, my dad was out of town, and my mother had a work emergency all day, and it was my brother who drove me around wherever I wanted and tried to take me to all the theater stores he knew about to buy me whatever I wanted using his own allowance money. And it was my brother, not my parents, who read me bedtime stories when I was little.
So it seems a little stupid to disown someone like that just because they don't believe in the same religion anymore. It's not like he's converted to worshipping evil or to animal sacrifices or whatever. It's just Christian. As far as religions go, he could have picked something much worse...
I can't believe that guy would theoretically choose to disown his own brother and ruin his brother's wedding day. Personally I'd rather have my Catholic brother that I know will always be my brother rather than have this ulpanist as a brother who would disown me at the drop of a hat.
I ended up having an epic conversation with this ulpanist because he said if he were in the same situation, he'd be "disgusted." He said he'd basically disown his brother, or at the very least treat him like a "gentile friend" and not a brother.
I don't know. I can't say that I'm happy that my brother no longer considers himself Jewish or that I'm thrilled that I'll attend his wedding in a church, but how could I ruin what is probably going to be one of the happiest days of my brother's life by not showing up? I told this guy that this is my BROTHER we're talking about.
Him: "Yes, but you have another brother to spare, it's not like you wouldn't have ANY siblings if you disowned him!"
Me: "That's not the fucking point!!! I have TWO brothers, not one brother and a spare!"
It's a ridiculous notion. The guy kept pushing the idea that he would disown his brother if his brother did the same (although he hinted that HIS brother would never do the same because HE was raised right...unlike me and my brothers), and I feebly tried to explain that you can't just disown a sibling. He asked why, and I muttered something about pants.
One of my favorite memories from when I was little was when I was about 3 or so and my oldest brother was 8, and he found this ENORMOUS pair of pants in our house. Like, they were even too big for our dad, who is a big guy. And my brother put them on and pulled the waist over his head and he ran around the house in them...he just looked like a bodyless pair of pants running around without an owner. And shrieking with laughter I just ran after my brother because I thought he was the funniest person in the world.
"Yeah, well you could have had that memory with a GENTILE FRIEND, Sam, it doesn't have to be your brother."
I offered that my brother drove me home from middle school, and that my brother was the one who found me sitting alone in the city park by myself when I ran away from home when I was little. My brother was the one ripping nasty farts on long car trips that the entire family angrily protested but also laughed heartily at (because, let's face it, my family has a disgusting sense of humor), and it was with my brother (and my other brother) that we made up a song to serenade our new dog 14 years ago. On my 15 birthday, my friends were all out of town, my dad was out of town, and my mother had a work emergency all day, and it was my brother who drove me around wherever I wanted and tried to take me to all the theater stores he knew about to buy me whatever I wanted using his own allowance money. And it was my brother, not my parents, who read me bedtime stories when I was little.
So it seems a little stupid to disown someone like that just because they don't believe in the same religion anymore. It's not like he's converted to worshipping evil or to animal sacrifices or whatever. It's just Christian. As far as religions go, he could have picked something much worse...
I can't believe that guy would theoretically choose to disown his own brother and ruin his brother's wedding day. Personally I'd rather have my Catholic brother that I know will always be my brother rather than have this ulpanist as a brother who would disown me at the drop of a hat.
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