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| Did I tell you that the house keeper came to our house fully equipped with a questionnaire in regard to our cleaning substance related allergies? Did I also mention that the Palestinian wax-lady also wanted me to sign a form reliving her of any responsibility for any type of leprosy that I may entertain in the 50 years to come?
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I decided to see whether I sounded differently in the morning. I have long noticed that my mind works better in the mornings, and also that I have a tendency to see the world in a better light.
Today is somewhat different. I am not in the best of moods. Guess I am a bit frightened as it is ominous Wednesday. I still have a thousand pages and then some to read. But I'll make it. Things do tend to look much better to me on Wednesday afternoons.
Yoav is now awake. I don't know if he is better or not. We had another tough night. Hope he has managed to fight off this xenophobic pest. The reason I don't know how he is, is that he woke up to an ear burning-throat lacerating call with Comcast. To judge by his tone, he might be feeling better. The alternative is that he is burning with fever and believes that it is the voice of the devil coming out of the receiver. This is of course a complete misperception of reality. It is just his receptionist.
No. he is feeling much better! Good sign. Maybe the day is taking a turn for the better. Also, I have spoken to my parents who were encouragingly complaining. Things are looking up! :)
Yoav is also noting that the day is much warmer.
Anyway, please keep your fingers crossed that I have a nice day ? no matter when or if you are reading this.
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Therefore, this may be the end to my post writing.
Hmmmm?
Believe it or not, it is now 30 hours after I wrote the lines on top. Note to self: things of importance a.k.a acute writer's block.
I am in the midst of reading thousands and thousands of pages. Trying very hard to make it something more than merely a neck exercise. Still, it is making it very hard to say something interesting about today, or yesterday for that matter. Yoav is suffering from a well-known anti-sabra American virus. It is very dangerous, but we shall overcome, like hordes of illicit recently discharged Israeli Dead Sea products sellers who were here long before us.
Maybe I should try and write something political. For example, can anyone explain to me how in the land of the free, it is possible to have a large political party whose ticket comprises of two people, who separately spawned 12 children (how pro-life is that?) and who heartily support teaching creationism in public schools?
No.
That's not interesting.
How about the fact that America has been blessed twice last week, first by the god of D and then by the god of R, in their nomination speeches? This is re-stressing the same point, only by showing that the disease is more dispersed than what might have been construed from my previous comment.
Not interesting either.
I'm beginning to fear that this provides less than adequate material for my 20-years-from-now forgiving eyes.
Enough is enough.
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We are now back from our very first vegan BBQ. I have nothing to say about that actually.
My mind is blank. I don't know what to say. Oh. I remember now what I wanted to write about. It was a manifesto on touching. What I mean is that I think that we, as Israelis should bring to the US the enunciation of touching.
What I've noticed is that people just would not touch each other. The realm surrounding each person Is too wide. It is ok to shake hands, but only at the first very encounter. After then it's taboo. Not ok. Don't touch. Please respect my personal space.
I don't know why, but I think a kiss or a hug are much better ways for friends to acknowledge each other or depart from one another. And it's not that I could ever be blamed for assigning to the touch-feely scholarship, or sect. in fact, as everybody who knows me knows, I've been often blamed for being too reserved – or icy cold in other words.
Of course, I am now at a loss trying to find excuses for why I think it is better. I just think it is. It's like I'm hugely impressed by the fact that people driving a mile ahead of me are assuming that my next step would be to cross the road, and therefore they stop and wait for me. It's just nice. It makes you feel less like the common notion is to each his own. It's sending out good vibes, and it makes a huge difference. I feel like I'm coming off as an absolute Dao type. Surely I haven't transformed into one. Still, I think there's a signal that touching sends which is important – something like, although I am afraid you might have a venereal disease, I am willing to risk having my nose drop off and still touch your hand :).
(Sorry about this bewildering post. Still, as far as this is a diary, I think it is important to recognize that I too have long periods of non-intelligence which come over me. At least for the sake of documentation.)
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Well, it's been a long long time.
And it's funny – yesterday when I was running, I kept thinking how addictive it was to be blog-documenting. How every activity gets broken down into post-sized blocks, and how obsessed I am already with blog writing after exactly eight posts. Then I thought that this thought should be the next topic for my next post.
Of course, this thought followed by the thought that the fact that I want to write about writing blogs only goes to show how really and truly addictive it is – that even meta-blog pondering becomes an issue for a post. And of course, this line of thought is limitless and is bound to get me absolutely loony.
And then,
I didn't write one syllable the whole of yesterday.
Now, of course, I'm afraid that not only am I not addicted, but that I already grew tired of it, and that this thing was a nice first-three-weeks-at-Berkeley experiment. This blog is being written, in part, to prove that I am not over this, and this is not a phase.
Also, I figured out some rules for my post writing which I am now going to share:
- Each blog should contain one theme only. This is important. And of course, I'm in extreme violation of this rule.
- When writing, I would not attempt to dig up what I thought about writing about when I wasn't writing. I should just write about what comes to my head at the actual moment of writing, and not worry about moments of clarity gone down the drain.
- Nobody is reading my posts and therefore, I shouldn't be scared of disclosing anything that I am not afraid to expose before a maturer version of myself. (I am assuming that my maturer self would have an interest in these juvenile documented blinks, which in itself is not an established fact).
- Still trying to figure out whether I need to provide a proper ending to any of these, when clearly, when I am over I can just stop writing and without any styling concerns.
- ..
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Well, let's just begin by saying that I have nothing bad to say about how today went and we'd leave it at that J! That's all I can say without the use of some secret language that nobody other than me and about two other people speak. Not about, exactly two.
Anyway! All I have to do now is plan the weekend! And do my privacy seminar, and read 400 pages for next week. But that is it. Oh yeah, and right a response for Monday, and another for Wednesday.
I think I should move this blog from the realm of the private to the realm of "actually having something to say about other people's lives". Just need to figure out what I have to say, and then I can absolutely say it.
I read in the chronicle (yes – I read the chronicle. Not Ha'aretz. Ha'aretz seems to be unable to reach my apartment.) that they had made it illegal to swear in Pittsburgh! I know I should have some articulate "freedom of speech" criticism on this tidbit of legislation if I ever want to be considered as somebody who has a say about current legal events. But, the only response I can muster at this point, is a smirk! I'm pretty sure this doesn't count as a New-Yorker level piece of criticism, but I'm getting there, aren't I?
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Today I had one of those days during which I really had to study.
I wrote this prissy critique for the seminar. It was too hard to control the level of squeamishness , and I just gave in in the middle. I just hope nobody here reads what I'm writing. Maybe I should have stuck to my native tongue for this. still, the daintiness is so obvious that I might do best to admit it straight off.
Of course tomorrow I'm going to be under pressure to no end. But this is irreparable. The main thing is that it will be over after approximately 2.8 hours (is it the same in the stupid non-metric system? I'm not sure anymore.) then I can go cry to Yoav. Yes. This is the main thing. The other main thing is that the day after that is Thursday and Thursday is clean. Maybe we will go to the Nudist beach in SF! Maybe not. We'll see. It's very hard to picture the time after.
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| How apt it is that we are now sitting in Café' Divine. Divine it is. The wind is blowing lightly. I can see both sides of the street and Washington park is filled with people basking in sunshine. Yoav is reading Murakami while nibbling on his Salami plate, and we are both sipping on our glasses of Rose'. I am sitting with my computer concentrating to the best of my ability on a pretty interesting piece of read for wedensdays seminar. My battery is going to die on me soon, and I'm writing to the dimmest computer light possible just to prolong this physical pleasure of just sitting here. The place is filled with kind faces, and we just left City Lights bookstore which is well worth its reputation. The only thought I have that may be dubbed concerning is in regard to Ofer's fall of the bike. Oh, and maybe just a little bit of worry about home. Other than those two, it's bliss. I'm almost afraid to write it down; as I am aware it might evade me. This isn't true. I'm not wary at all. Kind of expecting it to last and last and last…
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Important message to all followers:
When though ridest tough bikst through tough trainst railway tracks, though raisest thigh legst, even more than though raist though limbs when though drivest though automobile.
Thus spakest the prophet
Or in short:
As one raises ones legs when one crosses the railway tracks by car, even more so when one rides ones bicycle over the tracks. One is considered a great tzadik if one is meticulous to do so even in countries where commerce dictates eight(!) consecutive tracks.
(Rashi commentary can be found in Yoav's blog)
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Well, today I officially opened my football season. Accidently, I was at lower sproul square when a throng gathered by the fountain yelling, trumpeting, percussioning, stripping and what have you. But don't worry: I was standing safely in line, inside a glass box, queuing along with other Berkeley 68' veterans, like me, to get my ticket for the upcoming Yo-Yo-Ma concert. We had a very interesting discussion among us about how closely related we felt to the boors and how we would have definitely joined them had we the nerve to step outside of the conservatory.
Anyhow, I have one thing to say to you all and that is:
GO BEARS
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This was a save – it was seconds before I embarrassed myself to death (sincerely – embarrassed to death!). I was on the verge of framing a public question in regard to Thanksgiving like so: "would you please specify for the sake of the jewish girl when exactly is thanksgiving?". Had I framed the question this way, I might have decided to go back to Israel because of the shame. Luckily, this hasn't happened, and you would all be happy to know that the Wednesday before thanksgiving I am not going to have a program's seminar. That's going to be a long weekend. I still don't know when that will be, but the main thing is that it is going to be.
Anyhow, I'm pretty tired now. A little hard to write this way. I had a class this morning. Before that I had yet another bike ordeal. Then yoav and I sat in this fantastic Italian coffee shop, waiting for my seminar. Then I had the seminar. Then the governance meeting thingee. Then I road home like the wind expecting to meet Yoav who was at the moment at Ace hardware buying pegs and spikes that he needs in order to fix things. Then we went to San Francisco. Then we had a drink. Then we came home. Now I'm really tired, and Yoav is as usual just waking up.
Over and out.
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This is what we wake up to and we are so happy about that.
Wish we could be there to singlehandedly kiss all three of them and safta galia!
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Well, as it so happens, the day after I'm being coaxed (guess by whom) into writing something for this blog, I experience my first ordinary day.
I don't have much to say about it, except from my optimistic accumulation of fears towards prospective tomorrow. What I did was:
A. Get up.
B. Try to talk to loved people + prepare myself to my 10AM lecture
C. Work around 10 minutes on taking my bike out of the shed
D. Leave my loving and waving husband standing on the porch and ride to school with wind in my hair, fearing that the few strong troopers hanging in there will just float toward Shattuck Ave
E. Arrive much much much too early. Sit in class wait for it to begin. Realize I made a mistake in regard to the BTLJ meeting date
F. I'm changing tense now: sitting in class. Uttering absolutely no syllable what so ever, even not one that is part of a brownnosing chuckle (don't want to look too happy or else you are putting yourself at the risk of being called on)
G. Then getting home. Waiting so Yoav would mention he is hungry so that I could offer that he prepares lunch
H. Eat
I. Eat
J. Eat
K. Wash dishes + eat remnants.
L. Study a little bit
M. Start thinking about a suitable cultural event for the evening
N. Trying to decide between a jazz show or the 400 hundred blows which was excellent! And on campus. (coming to think of it, maybe this day was in fact great)
O. Come home with no energy whatsoever to open any school work
P. Write this post…
Q. Good night!
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Today was the first time I had ridden my new and up until this morning beautiful and unscathed bike. The first 100 meters went great. Then I nearly got run over – as my trip plan included riding through a single-direction road from the wrong side. I never noticed this fact, before a truck driver gave a piercing shriek which went something like:
"girl, this is the wrong way of the road!!!"
I duly moved to the pavement, thankful for being able to sustain my being.
Reaching the bike parking lot (yep, we have those in this splendid town) I encountered my second problem: I was unable to tie my bike to anything. I was a little challenged by the correct way to position the bike, and what's more, the lock just didn't work. I worked at it, quite embarrassedly for around 20 minutes, not daring to raise my glance so I wouldn't have to meet any shooting glance of a more experienced biker-tier.
10 minutes into Yoav's gallant quick walk to my aid, I somehow managed to get the damn lock to work. Not before falling on the mud, scathing my knee, scratching my bike in more than 10 places, and having its entire weight laid on me.
I reached class, breathless, with my hair surrounding my head quite awkwardly (a later revelation taking place in the bathroom, after being watched by at least a 1000 faculty mates), only to hear my name being called "miss NIV is it?". Needless to say, my following comments were as eloquent as the stray pickets of mud attached to my skirt.
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