society traps us

The longest update

rainolive — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 23:34:11 GMT

It's probably quite obvious that I've abandoned livejournal altogether and moved on with my hectic student life. I logged on today to check something very specific but not important - and then scrolled a bit and read a bit and started feeling awfuly guilty.
Not so much for my few readers, but for myself. It's difficult to revive memories once gone - still I can no longer keep stopping and writing. It was not just the time limit, or laziness. It was the urge to live and not dwell on the past.

I'm not sure if I still comprehand that urge. However, a different urge had striken me - the urge to stay up tonight and write everything that's happened in the last (almost) year, explain it in detail, compare, conclude.

I'll place it behind a tag to not flood anyone's friends page. and I'll break it into parts and give them numbers, to not scare anyone off with a lrge amount of text. and I won't spellcheck, because for hell's sake, I can't be bothered.

Let me see.

1.
It looks like last time I wrote it was passover, almost exactly a year ago. I took a hike with Judas to the Carmel, and we had a very nice time. I usually had a very nice time with him.
We were together for a year and a half, and he was the first feminist man I've dated. He was short, passionate, extremly clever and had unsurpassable wit. He also loved me, no doubt about that, and I loved him back.
There's really no point trying to explain everything I've gone through - in life and in relationships - and how it led me to find happinnes in an open, no-strings-attached relationship. We used to see eachother one night a week at most, but I don't remember missing him dearly - I loved my freedom, I loved dating other guys and I loved not being judged. I grew jealous at times, but I was still prepared to pass on security to be free /and/ loved, no conditions. Hell, with him I've grown and learned so much about the world and about myself. I learned how to enjoy, and how to give comfort. I learned how to listen, and how to be listened to. I learned to admit what I want, with no anger. I learned how to orgasm. Looking back, I can't say my heart doesn't ache. It really did feel nice, it felt absolutely great for very long - until it no longer did.

2.
I started studying in university last November, and my first year was, in short, a mess. It was stressing, I hated the dorms and I had no idea how to study. things have changed a lot since - I now live in an actual apartment, am very poor and have a small job in the university. My grades got a little bit better, too. But a lot comes before that.

3.
I noticed him on the first week of the school year. He usually sat on the first row, almost underneath the lecturer's chin. I could never sit there - it was too close to be comfortable. He was tall, pale, had lovely dark hair in a bad haicut and was slightly overweight. What caught my attention is the fact he always looked very nervous - the way he would take his notebook out, the way he would take notes, his quick pace as he walked to his chair, never late but always with an aplogizing smile sent to the general direction of the floor.
It seemed like his hands were usually shaking. He used to bite his nails.

4.
One night, a month or more after school started, I dreamt about him. In my dream he was standing, all alone, in the pine woods that surround the highway to Jerusalem. It was night, and he had to burry two people - his mother and his father, who just died. He was too shy to speak clearly, but was also obviously very distressed - and me, I had to help him. For some reason, I had to plan all the food for the funeral. I looked through books, I made phone calls, but nothing worked out. I was worried and distressed.
When I woke up, I realized I don't even know his name.
The next dream came two weeks later, and in the second dream we were having sex. I don't remember much but him being on top, kissing me a lot, that feeling he was all around me and everywhere.
I woke up feeling weirded out, completely. Amir (who was not yet accepted to Stanford, who hadn't yet left without leaving an emailor or a number) said, "if you spend so much time thinking about him, why don't you try and talk to him?" "talk to him?" I was horrified at the idea. "Yes, Gil, /talk/ to him, like normal people do when they want to be friedly. Start with 'Hi'.

5.
Amir, of course, had an excellent point. I eventually gathered the courage needed, said 'Hi' - and we started talking. I can't remember our first chats exactly - I remember joking with him about his allergies (it was simple to assume) and being amazed at his heavy, almost flowery way of using the Hebrew language. He spoke softly which made him sound American, but he was just a native speaker with patience. Most Israelis don't have that quality.
He had a unique personality, and you didn't have to like him in order to notice. I, of course, liked hime immedietly, and the few chats we had, every once in a while, made me really happy. In fact, they made my day. Yet he was so shy I had no idea if he liked me at all. As we grew to know eachother a little and his cryptic behavior didn't change, I assumed he just doesn't. Maybe a bit. Maybe he's gay. I had no idea, actually.
Oh, and his name was Amitai.
At the time, I told myself that it doesn't matter. I didn't know him well, and we were studying together, and we were very casual friends - that was all. I dreamt once again about having sex with him two months later, then pushed the thought away. I had Judas and I had enough to worry about as it was.

6.
When the first semester ended I used to try and encourage Amitai to come and study with us - 'us' refers to Shachar and myself, my closest friend from school. He came over rarely, never stayed long, but seemed to know the material better than everyone else. My final grades weren't at all good, but his were excellent.
I was really frustrated. another small, not important reason to be frustrated was that during the second semester Amitai stopped arriving to classes almost entirely. When he did - about once a week - I because cheerful and would try my best to have at least a few words with him. I'd accuse him of betraying our friendship and things like that - the silly things you say when you try to get through to someone, but you're not sure how. A while before the second semester ended, he told me he was quitting biology. I wasn't sure what to do.

7.
By that time, most of our common friends knew that I had a crush on him. I mentioned him a lot, and when they asked I asnwered honestly - yes, I feel something towards that guy. A weird something, it's difficult to explain. "Really? Amitai?" they'd ask, thinking of his worn-out clothes, of his nervous stummer. then they'd add - "you two sound like a disaster." I guess we did.
After he stopped arriving to campus I texted him a few times and asked how he was doing. We took a few walks together. A while before the semester ended I broke up with the Canadian, and in my frustration demanded more clearly of Amitai to hang out with me - and we snuk into a concert practice and watched it with glaring eyes. Chatting away, I took him to the Invertebrates Collection, showed him the shells and crabs and spider. Then he sat, shaking, near the desk where I work, and I cried and told him of my frustration with relationships. I said, "I always end up hurting the nicest guys." I wished he's understand I was talking about him, too. But he didn't, and I hugged him and thanked him. When we walked out I said, "Amitai, if you like me - how about inviting me to hang out with you sometimes?" and he said, "I will." but I knew he wouldn't, and he didn't.

8.
One night, when the semester ended, The Canadian called me up, and I sat outside and cried. Shachar sat with me, listened, and after a while suggested we'd do something nice that weekend. Perhaps Amitai would join us, he suggested. I called Amitai and he said we could spend the weekend in Tel Aviv, in the house that used to belong to his grandparents. It sounded like an excellent idea, and on Friday we drove to Tel Aviv - Shachar, Judas and myself - and met Amitai at the Chinese baoze place. The 4 of us had baoze, visited cool used books stores and then walked back to Amitai's grandparents' house and looked through their impressive collection of books.
We listened to records, played backgammon and talked until Judas left. Then Shachar fell asleep, and Amitai and myself were left the spend the afternoon together. We read poetry, went shopping and prepared a lasagna. At night Amitai, Shachar and I got drunk. I tried flirting with Amitai and felt. He made me feel so old sometimes. He made me feel 80.

9.
The three of us spent 2 nights and 3 days together, and it was great. We listened to music and bought hot-dogs and went skinny-dipping. Amitai told us a lot about his dead grandparents, and cried. I wanted to hug him so bad I thought I was going to explode.
On the second afternoon, when Amitai had a shower, I asked Shachar if he thought Amitai was interested in me at all. "At this point I'd say no," and said. "and besides, you two obviously want different things. He's such a sensitive guy. If I were you, I'd let it go."
I knew for certain that he was right, but I also knew that I just can't.

10.
We all went to sleep very late on the second night that weekend. Shachar walked into one room, I walked into another and Amitai slept on the couch, even after I said I'm okay sharing a bed. Sitting on the bed I felt like I could explode. Then I walked back to the living room and looked outside, at Rabin square, while Amitai was making the couch. the soft lights of the city shone through the big windows. Everything looked calm and quiet, like it does very late on a Saturday night. I wasn't calm - my heart was racing.
"Is everything alright?" Amitai finally asked when I sat down on the couch in front of him.
"I guess," I answered. He sat on the couch opposing me and looked at me, waiting for me to say something.
"Amitai," I said and took a deep breath - "if I were to try and kiss you, would you've moved away because you're shy, or would it be because you're not interested?"
He looked up at me, and I looked at the carpet. I felt stupid and dramatic and drivel. "I don't think I'd move away," he finally said.
I looked up at him, and felt hopeless. All the nervousness and anxiety left me, but it wasn't relief - I felt empty, completely empty of emotion or energy. I wanted to cry, but didn't have the energy to. He countinued - "I didn't know you were interested."
"You didn't know?" I answered with a chuckle. "You're kidding me."
"No, I'm not," he answered. "I'm sorry if I've hurt you. I didn't know."
we then continued sitting there, not saying anything.
"You know we want different things," he eventually said. "we do? I don't know what I want." I answered. "Whatever it is, I don't think it's what /I/ want," he said.
"Fine," I sighed. "Now what?"
"Now I think I'd like to kiss you goodnight. Would that be alright?"
and it was.

11.
Judas was really happy to heard about that. "Amitai is such a nice guy and you've liked him for so long -" "Look, now," I had to explain, "it started with that kiss, and ended with it. He's not made for open relationships."
On my birthday, going through my traditional depression, Shachar suggested a beer and invited Amitai. We had too much beer, went skinny dipping in a small natural toad-filled pool and then took a sort walk. It was a warm night and the moon was full. We walked across a forested hill, not speaking.
I stood there that night, looking at a small bonfire in the valley and thinking. I thought about guilt and about pain. I thought about living 24 years in guilt, and about howmuch I'dlike to stop - when I heard Amitai breathing. He was almost hyperventilating, there, in the dark, by himself. It was heartbreaking, and without a word I walked up and hugged him. He held me tight, like his life depended on it, and shook. I hushed him, telling him everything is going to be just fine. "I don't know... what to do with this." he said.
"This?"
"Us."
"You do with it what you want, Amitai."
"No. I... it's so difficult."
I touched his hair and thought of something comforting to say. "You're not alone. We'll work this out, together. I promise." and he stopped shaking.

12.
The next morning I texted him and suggested we meet at campus and have a talk. He gave me another small kiss the previous night, and I was walking on air. I didn't want to have sex with Amitai. I didn't want to be his girlfriend, or friend. I didn't want to break his heart. All I wanted at the time was to get to know him.
I knew that I was in love, and I knew that it was an accident waiting to happen. I knew I'd screwed up every relationship I've ever had, and that Amitai was fragile. I suggested the talk, assuming we were to decide to end it. But he thought otherwise.
I sat on the bench beside him and tried to explain why he shouldn't date me. The scent from his body excited me, and I couldn't concentrate. I wanted to touch him so bad my fingers itched, but after I was done talking, he hugged me and said that I was wrong.
I don't know what he was thinking, but he claimed that he wants to try, that he really does. That he's willing to risk having his heart broken. and I tried to convince him he was making a mistake before realizing that telling another person what's good for them is a really dumb things to do. Next thing I knew, we were dating.

13.
It felt really strange, dating Amitai. The guy I studied with for so long. We used to meet and talk, kiss like teenagers, eat pasta. He's show me places around the city. He looked really happy, but was jeaous of Judas all the time. I felt really bad, but didn't know what else to do.
It was a month and many "I love you's" before we first had sex, and although it was his first time, I was blown away. I cried and cried of excitement, and he had to calm me down. Crying on such occasions became a habit. I was terribly in love with him, and it shook my world. I didn't think I'd ever feel this way, certainly not after so many guys, relationships, so much sarcasm. I felt helpless and it was wonderful.
Things between me and Judas were slowly falling apart. As a matter of fact, I kept seeing him out of a deep feeling of obligations, to the point I used to count the hours 'til the time I go home. I still loved him, but I always, always felt guilty becuase it'd hurt Amitai so bad. I also felt guilty towards Judas, and my romantic life because a nightmare. Trying to balace between two dramatic relationships, at some point I had to give up.

14.
What I didn't tell Judas was that when Amitai stayed to sleep, we'd spend the whole night hugging. I didn't tell him that one morning I woke up beside Amitai, and he turned to me, and the look in his eyes said, "I've been waiting for so long - and you're finally here."
At that moment I knew Amitai would love me even in 70 years. His eyes had in them nothing but deep compassion and complete happiness, something I've never seen before. It almost made me jeaous.
For the first time in my life, I could suddenly see myself having a family. Not now, not soon - but it suddenly made sense, strange, twisted sense. for a split second even monogomy made sense. I knew then that something's changed, that I've changed, that things have to change. I also knew Judas would never forgive me, and I guess he won't.

15.
I left Judas in November and he was furious and hurt. I cried for two days, then Amitai messaged me and said, "I know you're in pain, but if you left him to try and have a relationship with me I'd suggest you start doing it." Amitai wasn't angry when I got angry and moody and confused - he just waited, talked me through it when I wanted to, and waited some more. I guess that, since he waited for months hoping for something like that to happen, he figured waiting some more wouldn't hurt.
Perhaps we were supposed to start having ugly fights by now, but we haven't. We're too busy being content, he's too patient and understaing, and I'm not prepared to screw this up - not again. We're trying our best. I think I'm happy.

16.
Last night he told me, "I was lonely for so long before I met you." I thought such a thing would sound needy, but it didn't. Somehow, I know that Amitai would be just fine without me, just like I'd be fine without him.
My grades are a lot better this semester - my average is actually 4 points higher.
I think it's going to be fine.

</lj>

rainolive — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 09:05:46 GMT

rainolive — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 10:29:53 GMT

7 weeks later I'm climbing a hill again.
"Dude, this isn't a road, it's a wall, dude," Judas exclaims as he stops and stands beside me. I giggle and sigh, adjust the straps of my bag and take a small step. I stabilize myself before taking another. Then I tell him something about Zen.

We crossed the Carmel, all green and blooming in springtime, in a day and a half and felt like heros - I'm in the worst shape of my life, he has hardly any experience with hiking. Then rocks, woods, camping, reading the map. It's all a lot easier once you find the Zen in it, I told him. I don't know that much about Zen.
But, let's say, climbing this hill.
When you first look at the map, count the orange stripes and see how high you have to climb, you might feel tired already, almost defeated. A while after you do start climbing, though, you might understand that you never had to climb that high. You just had to take a step, then another.
And, I added, it's a bit like this stupid chemistry exam that I took a second time only to score extra 5 points and get a final score of 65. As I didn't fail, I have options. Even though my average is, well, not good, I still have options. and as long as I have options, it'll work out. Somehow.

We stopped at sat down at the top, sweating and panting. I took my shawl off, allowing the cool spring breeze to blow over my neck. A pool of sweat formed around my bellybutton and Judas laughed. We walked through meadows and woods and down the mountains. We did it all, step by step, enjyoed eachother's company, enjoyed the view. We didn't fight or argue. We had no reason to.

21 hours later my grandmother asks me to carry the milk into the storehouse outside, and put it in the fridge. I take both carton boxes, step barefoot into the yard, unlock the wearhouse door and step in.
The warm noon light streams into the wearhouse, illuminating the dark-brownish walls and the specks of dust that dance through the air. the wearhouse in small - there are a few white refrigirators, two tables crowded with nails and screws and a large saw, a box of dry onions, a few large boxes of empty glass bottles. At the very end of the wearhouse stand 5 large wide green bottles the size of barrels with fabric and straw and thermometers peeking out, full of my grandfather's wine.
A few things in life are more serene than that wearhouse, but only a few.
Back in the house I ask my grandmother, again, if there's anything else she needs help with. Unexpectadly, she says yes, and points to the large basket of wet laundry. It makes me smile.

I step into the back yard on the other side of the house, puff as I put the basket down, and while hanging a dry towel I notice that some of the laundry that's been hanging since morning is dry. I pick the pair of jeans she washed for me, and the white top that seems to glow in the sunshine. Everything seems to glow - the white towels, the lemon tree, the vines that grow on the broken fence, entwined with chrysanthemums.
I take off the clothes my grandmother gave me when all my clothes were dirty. They're too big for me anyway. and for a moment, I stand almost-naked in the sunshine, and don't feel like getting dressed.
It's waem, and it's quiet, and it's lovely.
I then get dressed, and continue hanging the laundry.
That was the bginning of the passover. The rest was also fine.

rainolive — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 10:04:43 GMT

I will set internet up in the dorm next week, and maybe get back to writing.
My first exam went pretty bad and the second, that I'll be taking tomorrow, is looking horrid.

On a lighter note, I've been losing weight due to stress...

rainolive — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 11:16:11 GMT

Stress.

Shallow breathing

rainolive — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 10:44:07 GMT

Typed in on Wednesday.

It is midnight, and I'm sitting on my dorm bed and typing. It's cold outside, maybe 3C. Last week was colder.
The room, however, is warm. I just had tea and finished calculus homework from two weeks ago. I'm Having a hard time keeping up. Some days I feel completely lost.
It's quiet, real quiet. I can hear the wind blowing through the trees. There are no alarms, no airplanes, nothing to worry about at all.

Jerusalem, where I now live, is about an hour drive from my parents'. My parents live about an hour drive from Gaza stripe, where airplanes roar and bomb, where people sleep, in this weather, with their windows open so the glasses won't shatter as their cities are being bombed.
Where people don't sleep, because death is all around them.

I believe in our country's right to protect itself, and in our right to live quietly, safely, not have our routine - not to mention lives - threatened. I care for my fellow citizens as much as anyone else would. But for many other reasons I feel, in a sense so strong it screams inside of me, that this war is a mistake.
No terror organization in history has been defeated by a war. No one's even expecting to defeat them, still we fight. Because we must. Because there's no other choice. Because we're thirsty for blood. Because our politicians say so. We send our sons, brothers and fathers to kill somebody else's fathers and children in our attempt to defeat an organization that's been terrorizing our lives for 8 years. We fight.

They live 2 hours from my warm, safe room, a million and a half citizens with not enough food supplies, with not enough medication supplies, with no shelters, in constant horror. However we look at it, our destinies are connected. When their lives get better, ours will. When they feel safe, we will be safe. When we believe in their right to live here, they might accept ours. We're all human beings, and we're all made of blood, flesh, needs, hopes. One day, we will have to share this land, live on it as partners. But how many deaths away, who knows.

I hung signs in the university halls last week, and the responds were varied. I didn't know what else to do - something had to be said. They were probably taken off the same night, but I never checked. I knew that 'unity' is more important now, that suddenly I'm representing a minority.
'Unity' became so important that I can hardly speak up anymore. When I do, I'm being called a traitor, for not supporting the government's harsh, provocative and blood-thirsty actions. I'm "not supportive of our troops", though I've served in the army myself. I'm "delusional", even though history is at my side. not to mention comments about my assumed sexual behavior.
this is what not supporting the war feels like today in Israel.

This government does not fight for me, nor for my name. It fights for itself, and this month, for the first time in my life, I have understood that I need not leave this country - it had left me behind so long ago.

Every day I tell myself not to mention it. Not to argue with people anymore, not to worry. I try to concentrate on my life - organic chemistry, laundry, chocolate, octapi, the upcoming weekend with Judas.
But I can't. It drips out and forms puddles, puddle that reflects a basic human emotions people tend to forget of. In a month, when the attack ends and the reports start flowing in, the horrible photographs, the heartbreaking stories, the numbers, the numbers, for a single moment this country, perhaps the whole world, will feel the way I do right now. They will then turn their televisions off, and forget.

rainolive — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 11:47:46 GMT

6 minutes before class, I decided I should write. I must. So here goes.

I haven't studied all day, and fell asleep in chemistry class. It's probably because yesterday I got into my head the thought that I'm going to fail all my courses this semester. The reason I felt that way is that while I usually keep up with the homework, it takes me a long while to digest the material. I finish he homework, then am unsure of what I did, and find it difficult to repeat. Also, my concentration abilities are dwindling. I fall asleep in class, like, almost every day.
So last night Canadian came over. He's the sort of guy that gives you reasonable answers to unreasonable questions, and so I didn't get to why I was frustrated and upset. It didn't make me feel angry, nor disappointed - just lonely. He feel asleep, and I stayed up crying until 2am, when my roommate came back, then we talked for a bit. I just felt stressed, so stressed. and today I simply stopped.

I got chemistry lab now, and after that I'll go shower, take a bus to Tel-Aviv and go watch a movie with Judas, because I've been complaining we don't do much but lie about naked and play with each other's bodies. Which is a very exact definition to something wonderful, but for once I need to be outside, so maybe tomorrow I can get back to studying. There's so much to do.

Some days I'm not sure what I was thinking, going to university. Everyday stress crashes me, and I've made an aware choice to go through 3 very stressful years. Perhaps this is the sort of choice you have to make, as the only other option would be to give up on your dreams. Is that ever an option?

rainolive — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 14:48:38 GMT

Right.
I just came here to see how the world's doing, as usual avoiding studying...
I'd say I'm doing well but there's a huge gap I need to fill in my studying hours. and now I got the flu.

Of chemicals and heartbeats

rainolive — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 16:15:18 GMT

I'm sitting in the library by one of the old computers and can't make myself concentrate. It's stupid, I know.
No, it's not stupid.
But I want more control.

Last week with Judas was wonderful. He invited me, again, to join him and go see a play on Tuesday night, and I had to finally refuse.
Tel Aviv is not a terribly long way from Jerusalem, but with all the studying I must do I'd rather spend a long while with him if I make it all the way. He understood and invited some friend instead. It turned out to be the right decision, too,

As I made (limited) plans with the Canadian on Monday and my mom reminded me my brother's about to be drafted into the army, and so they'll come and visit me on Thursday. Judas offered I'd spent Friday night over.
So many plans, so little time, but I can do it if I push harder today, on Thursday morning and next week.

So yeah, the play can wait.
But then his friend got sick, and he invited some girl he's been wanting to date for a while now. She's also from Jerusalem.

It makes me happy, in a way. Open relationships allow you that. Open relationships allow me to have a wonderful time with The Canadian and cuddle him as Monday dwindles into Tuesday. The girl Judas has been talking about sounds awesome and it'll make him happy, as his sense of freedom should expand he'll allow himself to even get closer to me, I know it. And besides, this is the healthiest relationship I've ever had, I hardly ever get jealous, I handle it well a large portion of the time, I...
I can't chase the image of her taking my place, because in a very physical way, she is. It's scary - I can't be around, and someone else is. I know he has enough love, time, attention and libido for two girls because it's happened before, I know it's in my head, but like in all these chemistry euqations the logic seems to escape me when I try to feel through the numbers and substances.

This hasn't happened before. Not this time around, not with him. I'm surprised and sad, but most of all, I'm scared. I want to stop feeling that way so I don't ruin what I've achieved with so much effort and so much love.
I tell myself we'll spend the weekend together. I tell myself it'll make more sense tomorrow. I tell myself it's 6pm, and I still have hours of studying in front of me. In the warm library, amongst books and numbers, while they'll be watching a play, or walking on the street, or something much more frustrating to imagine.
And as my heart seems to beat faster it sends strange chemicals into my bloodstream, and they reach nerves and send signals up my spine, into my heavy head. the equations blur as biology wins me over, and on the papers of yesterday's physics lecture, I cry.

I bear gifts!

rainolive — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 00:53:40 GMT

One weekend, in the end of September, Judas and I walk around the city. We share a few things in common: books, chocolate, ice cream, sarcasm. They all make for a pleasant time.
This was a bit before I got sick, before I digested the full meaning of the word 'chronic', before I shut myself at home for days wondering why such a young body has to go through so much, and before I got tired of self-pity and understood that what the hell, this is a mild illness, and life goes on, and besides, I have so many plans.
2 months later I'm still coughing, but the doctors said it's nothing terrible or chronic - merely a cough. My dorm room is tiny but is starting to look homely, and my roomate hasn't been around all week.

I got an lj-nudge from sddiva some time ago, and I seriously can't remember the last time I've written. I thought of letting go of LJ, but am not sure about it yet.
3 years ago I stopped writing poetry, and I miss it. If I stop writing altogether, what will I have left?

First off, as a slight redemption, I bear 2 gifts to anyone who's reading this. The first is very self-centered and is my brand new photo-blog with the title What's In A Pie. I decided it was time for me to find a spot for some of the photos I take, and flickr was being a mean b*tch.

I started university (studying biology) this week, and I'm awfully thrilled about it, and carry many mixed emotions. Sometimes it feels impossible, some days it's a pure pleasure. I change my mind at least a few times a day.
I'm also (still) dating Judas and The Canadian. Don't know if I've ever mentioned him. They both make me very happy, even though I might not have a lot of time to see them - now with school. There'sa very strong general feeling of something good that's happening. It's difficult to avoid.
I live in the dorms. I still don't know my roomate very well, but she seems really nice. It's small and the kitchen is on the bottom floor of the building. My mom prepares me small boxes with frozen food. We haven't set up the internet connection yet, but I've managed to leech someone's wireless - only until we get our own, of course. I try to socialize with other people, but it isn't simple. The classes are long but interesting for the most part. I wouldn't imagine myself going through life without knowing some about basic chemistry and mechanics, about the way objects and materials behave in the world we live in. It feels like basic education forme, like the sort of things I've always needed to know.

The Canadian came over on Tuesday, and we had a tuna salad and ice coffee in the old city and talked about the behavior of a pendulum, velocity, all sorts of simple mechanics topics. The sun set over the towers and the voice of the Imam calling from the mosque rolled across the neighborhood.
I love this city, but the climate's too dry for my liking and makes my hair and skin look weird. The campus is wonderful, full of grass and trees and the 15-minute-walk into class every morning makes me happy.

I finished almost all my homework before the weekend, and on Thursday I took a bus to TA and went to see Judas. It was a long exhausting week for the both of us, and he went through a really difficult depressing time and pulled me in with him - as it was partially my fault.
But after being busy and letting it go for a couple of days he was suddenly refreshed, pleased and libidious. The hugs were long, the kisses were mind-boggling and every moment rose and sank like the breath of a sleeping person.
and after some time at home I'm back here, 2:30am, trying to make up for the lost words.
At night, when I read, the words seem to fly in front of my eyes and the pages to flip themselves. I feel so concentrated, so awake - not everybody likes studying, but I do. It's like being in a state of osmosis, with facts and numbers filling you.

As a last addition for tonight, Asaf Avidan.
Israelis already know him and The Mojos, a band I've been listening to a lot in the last month, and saw live with The Canadian more than a month ago.

As he sings in English, I strongly recommend his music to, well, everyone. Oh, and yes - it's a guy.
It was difficult to choose only one song to embed here, so I went with two. The first is just very plain popular.

Hangwoman

Hangwoman, hangwoman
Sleeping in my bed
Got me a hangwoman,
Hanging round my bed.
Lord I dunno but, I think she wants me dead.
Lord I dunno but, I think she wants me dead.

Hangwoman, hangwoman
Got me wearing my best clothes.
I said this little hangwoman,
Got me wearing my best clothes.
But if it's for a wedding or a funeral, only she knows
Said if it's a wedding or a funeral, only god knows

You can't stop a fly flying
You can't stop a flood from flooding
You can't stop, a man from lying
You can't stop this girl from tying.

Hangwoman, hangwoman
Tie that noose around my neck
Hangwoman, hangwoman
Tie that noose around my neck
Hangwoman, tie that noose, so our love would never break.

This one's been my favorite for a while now.

Of Scorpions & Bells

I know that my grip was a little to tight,
But from where I was coming, you were the only thing right -
I guess I'm sorry for that.

But if you think these bars of love you have forged
will keep me here locked up, and waiting, and yours -
Baby you're wrong.

'Cause baby I'm leaving
Baby I'm leaving.

Now, decide what you need, a guide or a thief
Someone to hold you, or sharpen your teeth -
I ain't staying to find out.

'Cause I think you're blind
And I think you're deaf
Touch is the only sense you've got left.
Baby, good luck with that.

'Cause I'm leaving
Baby I'm leaving.

rainolive — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 18:03:00 GMT

It is no longer Septmeber.

The days are shorter, and I'm sad because everything always has to change.

With much love

rainolive — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 19:17:28 GMT

Since I haven't much to say,
Here's a little something for everyone.

The National - Cardinal Song

Never look her in the eyes,
Never tell the truth.
If she knows your paper
You know she'll have to burn you.

Never tell the one you want that you do.
Save it for the deathbed
When you know you kept her wanting you,

And do everything she'd never do.

Fall asleep with stranger's wives
The wild wives of unknown men
Good for you, you've just become
Just another one of them.

Never say you miss her
Never say a word

And do everything she'd never do.

Don't let her see your cardinal eyes,
Don't let her see your cardinal eyes.

Let her treat you like a criminal
So you can treat her like a priest.
Girls forgive my human mind
Girls forgive me one more time,

Never tell the one you love that you do.
Save it for the deathbed,

And do everything she'd never do.

Don't let her see your cardinal eyes,
Don't let her see your cardinal eyes.

Jesus christ, you have confused me
Cornered, wasted, blessed and used me.
Forgive me girls I am confused,
Stiff and pissed and lost and loose.

Jesus christ, you have confused me
Cornered, wasted, blessed and used me.
Forgive me girls I am confused,
Stiff and pissed and lost and loose.

	The National - Cardinal Song

	Found at skreemr.com

rainolive — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 19:33:06 GMT

Allspices

rainolive — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 18:31:51 GMT

I walked into a shop of spices today, around late morning. it was right next to the bank, where I now work.
I love spice stores. I like the way the strong scents daze me as soon as I walk in, even before noticing the many rich colors huddled in jars and jute sacks. and next, the possibilities. dried leaves that are good for soup. 5 different kinds of rice. red, green, orange powders, all seem to glint with notes that produce some exotic tune from their land of heritage, yet already rustling daydreams of pots and pans.
The salesperson was serving a costumer, and so I stood there, absorbing. there were dried strawberries, teasing me with a deep shade of pink, and bags of dried coconut, bright and serene, and thin cinnamon sticks that seemed to giggle in their plastic jar.
I had to ignore them all, and focus on the reason I was there. so I stood on the tip of my toes to reach the top of a shelf and grab a bag of allspice. it was a bit heavier than I expected.
"How may I assist you?" the salesperson turned to me.
"Can I have about half of this amount, please?" I said. it was still a lot of allspice. I didn't need as much.

But allspice is named as it is for a pretty good reason. it seems to combine the flavors of cardamom, nutmeg and pepper, and looks as elegant in its tiny dark shell as a mysterious smile - - and I thought, I might as well buy a small bag.
The salesperson removed a large jar from the shelf, and removed the red top. I could smell it even before he gathered the seeds with a large spoon, weighted them in a small plastic bag and said, "2 and a half shekels, please." that's about 60 cents. I fumbled for change as he shut the bag hermetically with what looked a bit like a stapler.
"Do I need to crash the seeds, or just use them as their are?". people who own spice shops always know a lot about spices. "They're good as they are. would you like some bay laurel?"
I shot a sudden smile. "no, I already have some." my grandfather grows it, and my grandmothers dries the fresh leaves in the sun, so they'd hoard the falvor until they come in touch with hot water.

tomorrow I'm going to try and cook some borscht.

rainolive — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 15:39:11 GMT

People who hate birthdays all act the same.
They begin with general-grumpiness a couple of days before the actual event, and let it grow stronger as the minutes tick past them. they either hide the actual date, or they tell everyone how much they hate birthdays, how the only thing that'll make them happy would be ignoring it altogether.
I'm not sure why I hate birthdays.
I can't stand the attention, the way someone might try to make me happier, but miss the point completely. and my family always makes me feel disastrously lonely. I just hope it will all pass quickly and painfully.

I woke up at 5:45am this morning for no apparent reason. the sun was shining through cracks in the big shut window in the porch next to the room I was sleeping in, curled against the cool wall. it was hot, I was sweating, and as is usually the case, it's taken me a few moments to recall where I was.
Judas was lying on the soft mattress not too far from me, his limbs huddled around his body, that was spread askew around the bed. he was positioned the way people are when they're used to sleeping all by themselves - selfishly, independantly. I hugged his sticky back, and thought I heard a mumble. not wanting to wake him up I continued lying there, wondering why I can't sleep for more than 5 hours at a time. for a few moments, it felt like nothing in my life makes sense anymore.
When my alarm went off at 6am, I turned it off quickly, got dressed, washed my face, and only when I was ready to leave did I sit on his bed, leaned over and kissed his forehead. he complained about having to get up to lock the door. "just do it quickly and get back to bed," I whispered reassuringly. he mumbled.
at the door, I told him I've enjoyed seeing him, kissed his collarbone and planted another quick
kiss on his lips. he smelled of exhaustion and sleep. I walked quickly down the stairs.

At this point, I wanted to be the sort of person who can easily lie to themselves. but stepping into the gray street and following the pavement around the block, I knew that the heavy emotion inside my chest was undeniable. it was confusion, affection and attachement, all rolled into an exhausted ball and nervousness and guilt. everything comes down to nearvousness and guilt.
I wanted to run back up, cuddle in his long arms, and not face that day. not face any day ever again. but especially not that one.
I bought some orange juice, and when I got on the bus that's heading way down south, I put my bag on the seat, lay my head down, and fell asleep. the bus shook like a cradle.

Back home after another ungratifying day of work with the girl I can't like but miss when she's away, 2 hours before a shift at the cafe`, I wonder if I should've said anything different when my varous current friends and my annoying family asked, and I told them to just leave me alone.

it's not the life we live, it's not our lousy job, it's not Western culture. it's the things we say, it's our thoughts that trap us.

Missing Words

rainolive — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 22:09:57 GMT

Messages recieved on OKCupid.com today, June 23rd, 2008:

1. From: Passion4music/ 38/ M/ NY

Hi Gil,

Saw your profile and I just wanted to tell you its really great. How fun and witty you are totally beams from it. Its great how open and communicative you are... anyway I know its random to get an email from NY but its such a fun great profile I had to say hi.
Hope you are having a great night.
Take care,
Scott

2. From: 42/ M/ Syria

Hey there,
I've read your feedback on who should/should-not sne du a message, where u said don't message me if u want to marry me or love me for ever...but i did not see the word "bleep" me.

ooops, it seems that the control room have edited my message and changed the word bleep...here we go gain...
Anyways, am sure you undertand what am trying to say.

3. From: armofou 28/ M/ CA

Hi.. I came across your page, and despite the distance between us.. I just really dug what I saw and red and wanted to make contact. I don't know if your into pen-pal relationships..but as a writer I love having people to send my words too, and I am always ready to answer questions. So, if you like my page nearly as much as I liked yours, hit me back..

maybe a conversation will start,

and maybe a connection after that.

Anyways, it cant hurt.

Thanks for your time,

Andrew

4. From: Lucky_McFluke 24/ M/ UK

On a scale of 1-10 how interesting a person would you rate yourself as?

Some people are great.
Some are not :)

Talk geeky to me

rainolive — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 19:06:20 GMT

Judas says:
Yeah. You're a cursed item gotten off a special third-level boss.

Oh my. I think I'm in love.

Judas says:
Cursed items are the awesomest. They're more interesting than regular magic items, who are like, "ooh, now I'm even more overpowered than I used to be." They also have more interesting stories behind them. Usually.

A thrilling manifest.

rainolive — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 14:16:08 GMT

I've had the messiest feminist argument with Nathan the Canadian a couple of days ago.
I hardly consider myself A Feminist. for me, there are two different genders, and they're different for a purpose. but as a big believer in Individualism, I also claim that everyone should be allowed to pick whatever (gender) roles they want to.
That makes me your average bourgeois type. a warrior, an opinion-ist, an assertive hippie, still one dream of mine is to household and have a billion children (let's say, while writing a book). not because I'm a female, because I like the idea, because can't wait to meet my own children, and I'd love to concentrate on parenting.
I also never minded homosexuals, transsexuals, bi-curious or anyone of that type. I friend them, I believe in freedom, and variety is what makes our world so wtf-cingly fantastic.
and I hate it when a guy insists to pay for my drink. you're not paying me for anything, I have my own job.

But don't anyone ever dare hint that my morals, as a woman, should be different than a man's.
I know my relationship-choice and sexual behavior these days are a bit different than what's socially accepted. women, you see, have to deal with some strange ambivalent message they constantly receive.
on the one hand, not only are they sexual creatures, but it usually serves as their main purpose. you can be kind, loving, intelligent, even brilliant. but if you're not generally attractive, if you don't constantly remind the environment the body you live has these qualities of reproducing, none of it is gonna help you much.
and on the other, a woman who actually has a lot of sex, who has many partners or is known to have a passionate, sensual nature is usually considered... immoral.

WTF society. wtf.
Guys hate the idea their current girlfriend had many partners before them. some get turned on by the idea of virginity. yet they hope you'll be a roaring tiger once they get you in bed.
Not to mention the way you're expected to create a long, mind-boggling labyrinth on the way to sex. otherwise, if you ever choose to follow your instincts and needs, you're considered to be cheap.

For all the girls who keep their virginity or anything in between, I'm not judging anyone's sexual behavior here. I just hate having mine judged, which is what Nathan's done two days ago. I've lost friends for drugs, for political ideas, yet for chauvinism. there's always a first time.

I've had many confusing years over these issues, and I know many of my grilfriends have as well. I've had long, steady (yet far from healthy or balanced) relationships, and only a year ago I've ran my fingers along the tip of the iceberg, or so it feels. it feels like I have much to learn and experience, and I'm going to follow a less-trodden path. I don't care.
So yes. what I'm practicing these days might be considered as polyamory. I don't feel the need to name it. instead of being lonely or tangling myself up in a relationship I can't handle, I've chosen something easier, less steady, less serious, just as fun. two of these. I made two excellent friends, and it really *is* based on friendship, whether you believe it or not. I do it carefully, I use protection, I get tested for STDs, too. I think about it, consider my steps, deal with it as it comes, one day after the other, one emotion at a time.
I also suspect I'm beginning to crush on one of them, but that's a different story.

All Nathan could see is how the "sweet girl" he's known is "sleeping around". he also said that if a male friend of his was doing the same, it wouldn't make him as angry. how would you react? how would you feel? am I obligated to a different system of morals because of my gender?
the funniest part is that he's focused enough to admit it while other people just squint their eyes in disgrace and don't even ask themselves why.

and you know, I used to be just as sweet when my outlook on sex and relationships was different. in fact, these days I'm more calm, almost serene, and in general I just feel better.
so I didn't bother explaining or arguing any further. I pulled out my best tool - honesty - and told him what I really think. "fuck you".

Escape Artist

rainolive — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 11:46:47 GMT

Hey, I really enjoyed this.

rainolive — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 01:52:51 GMT

Right,
I find it harder to write after so much time passes. the days fall through like marbles and echo with work and silly tasks; laundry, cooking tomorrow's lunch, shopping, cheap afternoon entertainment.
I don't mind it. half of the time it feels like I'm not even there. my mind is somewhere else. I wish I could say it's occupied with travels across time and space. sometimes it does wander to the Himalayan views and makes a stop on some historical event, but most of the time it's just lying in bed, beneath soft covers or naked in front of an old fan, holding someone attractive or being held as deep afternoon light washes the large room - -
and less poeticl-y, yeah, I think about sex quite a lot.

and when Thursday almost ends, in between weekend shifts, I squeeze in as much excessive living as I can. not exactly racing toward cheap thrills, but grabbing opportunities while pushing the boundaries of safety just a little.
I'm nearly 23, I don't see any other reason to be alive but that exactly.
Last week I've had 2 dates with a guy, an occasion that'll be forgotten in weeks' time. reading back, I won't ever remember him. he bored me quite a lot. I gave it a shot since he was such a nice guy. but I never get along with all these nice guys anyway, what was I thinking?

I can't understand these people, who wander the world and don't feel constantly confused or amazed. so much is happening everywhere, so much of it is absurd or strange or interesting. there are flowers blooming in springtime and people dancing in a religious wedding in the street and 10 strange insect bites on my legs that still itch and giant space vegetable in china (seriously, that amazes me:),

so how can anyone continue living as they do, sound asleep?
anyhow, the guy wanted to hear the truth, so I gave him the truth, leaving out the mediocre-kisser part. he sounded quite confused - I'm sure he'll live on.

I drove to Jaffa last night after after a guy who I shall relate to as Judas for a completely stupid reference (all I could come up with) invited me over. we've exchanged a few messages some weeks earlier, and ended up talking on MSN, some bright hello every now and then. I found myself thinking about him this Sunday, and he invited me over the same day. I already knew most of what I needed to - intelligent, open minded, straightforward, probably a sapoisexual, geeky, probably slightly abnormal, resembles Jesus - physically. I sent him a picture some time ago for a silly reason of myself in a dress, asked for his opinion, and he replayed, "delicious." everything seemed to fit into place. so I borrowed my parents' car, over-dressed, cleaned my ears, and on Thursday night I was sitting in my new jeans on the blue couch in his small rented apartment in Jaffa, Tel-Aviv's step sister and the family's black sheep. it takes one about 40 seconds to decide how much he likes someone anyway, but the pleasurable conversation about nothing was an added bonus. he was browsing through his CDs trying to pick a movie but I couldn't really listen. the situation felt so intense I could've exploded.
"So," I said, my voice slightly loud with nervousness, "what's the first thing youv'e noticed about me? and don't say height or eyes, 'cause that's the first thing everybody notices about everyone."
"If I can say this without sounding cheesy - - "
"You should if that's the truth."
" - - I first noticed that you're much prettier than in your pictures."
"Oh." instead of mocking him, I blushed like a Disney princess. he had a really nice smile.

When he got up, I used his laptop to check on my emails, and was absolutely delighted to see a new message from Einav, the new fresh traveler, after nearly two weeks of silence. thrilled and appalled I began reading the long email, browsing through pictures and giggling until Judas joined and laughed along while I was reading out loud, commenting ("Oh God I sure hope she's had sex with this guy"), and humming as he used the situation to gently rub my back. "I don't miss any of you and I'm having an excellent time!" Einav rambled on, and I squeed. "Oh yay, i'm so happy for her!!" I exclaimed and stared at a picture of her staring back.
His hands down my back felt nice, damnit. it all felt nice. I thought of Einav. and of me, sitting on that couch. and of right and wrong and want and need. what would she say? she'd probably be for it. she might even say, "stop being scared, do it if you want to. and if you don't - - then don't." and so I turned around and kissed him.

the thing about Judas is the utter excitement my presence triggers. it's not that I don't consider myself generally attractive, but by social standards I'm just way too chubby, not feminine enough, perhaps too courageous, and this guy went absolutely nuts, probably saving me hundreds of dollars on future psychotherapy. he wouldn't stop telling me how much he likes my body, how attractive he thinks I am, grabbing me with a comment such as, "I can't believe you're in my bed." dear God, just thinking about it makes me feel as warm inside and fuzzy as a Labrador puppy.
As for the dirty details, technically, there was imbalance on different tasks on his side. some of it was very good, some was just good and not excellent. and it was all, in general, great.
the company, chatting and nearly losing a thread of thought to touch or kiss some body part. his squinting eyes as he lay between my legs for a few minutes and just... observed. and the way morning passed and before noon, when my tossing and touching woke him up, he kissed me before brushing his teeth which didn't bother me not even a tiny bit.

The city was awake when I left his house, and I took a short walk on the noisy street. my attention was caught by the word "patisserie" and an hour's pay was spent on some Halva Croissant (lovely Israeli thing), almond Croissant and a small Sweet-Potato-Quiche that's waiting in the fridge for tomorrow's new events. anything seems just fine. I might see Judas again, and I might not, and things would just work out the way they should. Gods know it's nearly 5am, so there isn't much time left at all. I might as well get some sleep and stop playing these scenes in my head. Gods know I can't be bothered to spell-check my ramblings.

note to self: carry camera around moar.

My Thursday.

rainolive — Thu, 22 May 2008 23:20:41 GMT

On a Friday-to-Saturday Israeli weekend, Thursdays were meant to drain you, physically and emotionally. this was my Thursday.

05:00: the sunlight wakes me up. I've had 5 hours of sleep, and some strange dream about a cat that comes into my room, sits on my blanket and purrs. I turn around and get back to sleep.
06:00: I get out of bed, and I'm grumpy. it takes me 5 minutes to understand I can skip office-wear because I'll be spending the day in the Help-Desk call center, and 5 more to recall I can't wear sandals 'cause I'll be working in the cafe` later.
06:30: I hitch a ride. it's a terribly foggy morning, which means the day'll be hot and hazy. I have to take about 3 different buses.
08:00: I arrive at the Help-Desk center, way too early. I want to call Einav and tell her of something that's annoyed me last night, but before I hit "dial" I remember she's in Thailand. it makes me a little sad. I smile.
09:30: I listen to some phone calls, and take notes. it's very educating, and not too boring. Michal is sitting around, and when we don't listen to calls, we talk.
10:30: I find that they have internet, and all I think about is that it's Sam's 20th birthday. I sit down and write him a long email. it takes me about half an hour.
12:30: I have lunch with the manager of the call center. he's a really, really nice guy, who talks a lot in a passionate manner about the project.
13:00: I recieve a message from Rabbit. he asks what time I'll be coming on Saturday. i tell him I'm not sure because I don't know if I'm working on Friday yet. he replys, "Well, I'll be home Friday noon. hint hint." it makes me happy, and I feel guilty.
16:00: 2 cups of coffee and 4 phone calls later, I ask Micha'el many questions, and feel like an idiot. Michal shows me some photogrpahs of the frozen girl they found in South America back in 1999.
18:28: The mendatory 18:30 phone call arrives. Micha'el tells the lady on the other side of the line to refresh, and then the server dies. we all sigh in relief, and he gives me a ride to Gedera.
Christina, another girl who rides with him, asks me if having two jobs isn't a bitch. "Well," I say. "Well, well, I finish working at about 2:30pm 3 times a week." it's not just that. I really need the money too. and it's not like I have much to do. my second best friend isn't in Israel. my first best friend is always busy. as for other people, well,
it's not like I have that many friends. and I couldn't handle a boyfriend. so I have the time.
19:30: I arrive at the cafe` an hour too early, and make myself a cup of strong coffee. and to think that a month ago, I didn't drink any coffee at all. I drink it slowly while reading a book.
20:00: 16 hours on my feet, I'm surprised at how well I'm managing. I take orders, serve tables, smile and use my best costumer-voice like a real pro. the reason I'm managing so well is that I've got a plan. so sure, my Thursday is crazy, but I'll make up for it this weekend. last time I saw Rabbit was two weeks ago, and the city was being bombed. two weeks have passed, and we both promised eachother and ourselves we'll make up for the time and unfortunate events. been working and worrying, I could really use some affection, some relaxing away from home. I'll wake up before noon tomorrow morning, not too early, not too late. visit the supermarket and pick up some groceries. I'll bake some chocolate-banana-toffee mini-pies. he'll love it. I'll bake some vegetable pie as well, just because I can, and the oven's already on. once I'm done with the baking, I'll have a long shower, shave my legs, wear something nice, wraps up the pies, and hitchhike down south. he'll open the door, smile, and wrap his arms around me. by Friday afternoon I'll be having a sound nap, cuddling him.
20:20: I can't answer Rabbit's phone call since the cafe` is quite crowded. when he calls a second time, I already know what he's got to tell me. I know it because it's already existed in my thoughts, and thoughts turn into reality so easily.
23:00: I find the time to take a short break. sneaking through the back door, I call Rabbit up. some old friends of his are meeting up on Friday night. yes, sure, of coruse. I would've done the same. yes, but 3pm on Saturday is too late. I'm working on Sunday. yes, next time, then. alright, enjoy your weekend. I take a really deep breath. I would've done the same. this is really great. allthis attachement was driving me nuts, so this is actually a good sign, right?
23:10: I call my brother up and tell him I'm going to need a ride home later that night. he tells me he's with his girlfriend, and can't come pick me up,a nd acts like a real bastard. we shout at eachother for a bit, and I hang up.
23:20: While washing the dishes, a gazillion glasses and 250 forks, I try not to cry. my plans are gone, everybody's being an idiot. I'm tired of being hopeful, positive, tired of smiling. it feels like I'm disappearing. I have to decide.
23:30: I call Rabbit up.
"Hi."
"Hi. are you busy?"
"No, you can talk."
"Um, can anybody else hear me?"
"Just talk."
"Well, I've wanted to say, I mean, ummm, well."
"I like 'ummm'."
"I miss you. and so I've been thinking - - "
"I miss you too."
"Oh."
"So you've been thinking that...?"
"Oh, that I have to be in Lod on Sunday morning, but I can probably make it, I'll have to get up amazingly early and be exhausted but I'm usually exhausted either way, but it's only a 6-hour-day, no one would get angry if I arrive a little late, so it's an idea, it's just, I'd like to see you, really."
"Hey, that sounds great. gonna have to check the buses, though."
"Yeah, I will. it's probably do-able. it's better than nothing, I guess."
"I'd like that a lot. that's a nice idea. how about we talk again tomorrow?"
"Yeah, great. bye."
"Bye."
23:35: I'm washing the dishes, and crying.
23:40: It's always better to live than not live. get out there instead of staying home. taking a risk, knowing you've tried. but all this attachment. caring. making a sacrafice. is it worth it? did I just cross a line I shouldn't have? am I going to look back and regret it?
("It's not like that," I looked up at Dan. "it really is, just, you know, sex."
"Do you believe yourself when you say that?"
"of course I do."
"I still don't believe it'll be any different. bet you 4$ for that."
"4$ for what?"
"that one of you is going to want more."
"well, eventually, maybe."
"5 weeks, and the words 'serious relationship', 'emotions' and 'love' appear."
"4$?"
"4$."
"it's a bet.")
I feel so guilty. wake up at 5am for 9 hours with this guy. he was so random, and me, what am I coming to?
00:45: my brother arrives with his girlfriend in the passenger seat. thank God.
01:15: I'll go to sleep straight away, I just need to write down a few ideas.
02:18: done.

But I can't help the feeling

rainolive — Mon, 19 May 2008 17:46:46 GMT

"But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
if I just turn and run."

Right now it seems like the only reason I've been able to keep up a positive attitude was *not* having a real, stable job.
today was such a long, exhausting day, and it's only Monday. it's wearing me out.

rainolive — Sat, 17 May 2008 15:13:53 GMT

My bad days aren't your bad days.
Your bad days are about how lousy your job is. or how bitchy your boss is being. or how you wish you had more money.

This week has been long and exhausting, but not too bad. having 2 jobs now, I found myself working for 7 days. never again. Thursday, however, was terrible. it was existentially bad and made of loneliness. I felt like an outsider. I felt like a broken puzzle piece that can't fit anywhere, and wondered why I don't get along with almost anyone but strange psychiatric cases.
that's far from being exact. but when I'm down, my self-esteem breaks like an egg-shell. I took a long walk home and tried to re-arrange the thoughts in my head. and had no chance of telling that to anyone.
Einav is flying this Wednesday, and she's busy. I didn't feel like spilling the beans on anyone. so it remained inside my head.

Friday's changed everything.
during the last few weeks, I knew for a fact that I was in trouble, money-wise. it only occurred to me once I finally got a job - I owe a shitload of money to the bank and the credit card company. that's what happens when you live off savings for a whole year.
but on Friday morning I had 15 minutes to spare, and decided to go to the bank that's right next to the cafe and see if I have any savings left or if there's a way to work things out.
the nice banker told me I don't owe anything to the bank, and that my debt to the credit card company is as terrible as I thought it is. "can you see if I happen to have any savings left?"
"just a moment," she said, typing away.
I sat there and thought of all the positive thinking I've practiced, wondering if it ever helps. I felt like an idiot, with my silly beliefs and my 7K debt. the calculations I've made earlier concluded that I'll find financial stability this July. and then what? how will I ever be able to pay for university with so little time left, with little income?
"You have 12K in an old saving."
"What?" I blinked as my thoughts were disturbed. I was quite amazed.
"You have 12K in - - "
"No shit!"
the banker looked back at me. "glad to hear it makes you happy."
"of course it does. when can I use it?"
"it's available once every 3 months. the next time would be... in... 4 days."
"oh my."
the thing is, I'm messy and irresponsible, but I *know* it. I use two alarm clocks, because one won't wake me up. I keep notes and reminders everywhere, because I'm forgetful. I hide money in order to find it later, when I need it desperately.

so not only do I have enough money to pay for my debt, I have about 35% left for whatever cause. I can buy a laptop, keep saving, or just use it to pay my bills until I get paid for real. it's amazing how the worries you try to ignore keep you low, and once they're gone, you feel so light.
so I had a really nice shift, made some nice tips and had a good lunch. it continued with seeing my highschool friends later that night, which wasn't as bad as it sometimes get. I had a Guinness, dear God, did I miss that beer. having even little money feels so nice.

Also, I've watched a movie with Dan on Tuesday.

I never read the book (I just can't make myself pick up books that everybody's reading. really can't), but I quite enjoyed the movie. it wasn't too corny, not at all Hollywood-ic, and told the story in such an emotional but authentic way. Dan, who read the book, still thought it was pretty good and told me the parts they left out on the way home.
we had some chocolate with raisins.
I didn't mind only getting 4 hours of sleep. I do pretty well with little sleep.
and living through the day, not just going to work and taking the train and feeling tired, but actually doing tiny significant things and make your mind race and your heart skip a beat is better than all the sleep in the world.

I'm sure next week's going to be a bit better, easier to go through.

If I'd been a shoe

rainolive — Sun, 11 May 2008 18:34:17 GMT

"If I'd been a shoe, I'd be a boot or a clog"

-Evyatar Banai

I was startled out of sleep on 7am on a Saturday morning by the sound of an explosion. laying in Rabbit's arms in his bed in his bedroom in Sderot, it took a split second to remember where I was or what it meant. still half-asleep, my whole body shook with fear as I clung to him.
"Hey what's wrong, what's wrong?" he opened his eyes to look at me.
"I heard a fall, a real close one, I hard a fall."
"It's over now, then. it's over, it's alright," he mumbled. "hey come here, it's alright it's over," he repeated and hugged me.
I buried my head in his shoulder and dozed off. I dreamt that I was in a big house, and my whole family was there. we heard the "Color Red" alert, and then a large, round white rocket, the kind you see in cartoons, hit the large window in the living room. in my dream, the rocket took 5 seconds to explode. smashing the window, glasses flying everywhere, I ran to the kitchen. it was quite large, and I lay behind the counter. then the rocket exploded. but I was fine. I was fine. the alarm went off again. "Color Red," it said, a hysterically calm voice.
I opened my eyes. "the alarm went off again," I shook Rabbit and got up. he followed me to the bathroom. "it's not even 8am yet."
"4 Hammas people were shot down last night."
"Oh man."
"It's going to be quite a day."

After that fall he grabbed the pillows and blankets and moved us to the single-bed at the other side of the room that's turning north. said it's a bit safer. I tried falling asleep, but I kept imagining hearing the alarm go off. we had to get up and walk to the bathroom a few more times before finally getting up at about 1pm, exhausted. half an hour later I called my brother up and asked if he could drive down and pick me up. he was an asshole about it, so I called me dad. I asked if it was fine. I asked if he could not tell my mom, too.
and he said, "I told you only 2 days ago. the time or place don't mattee. if you need help and I can give it to you, I will. that's why you call me 'dad'". I sort of felt like crying.
on the way home we talked and stopped for some food. I saw that the row of trees next to the road I walk by on my way out of town caught fire.
my dad said I remind him of his mom who never gave a damn about this sort of stuff, about traveling by oneself, hitchhiking or staying where it isn't 100% safe. he said he likes it, too.

Today was my first day at my new job.
finally another computer project that pays well, like I'm used to. it's been a really really long day, and I'm exhausted.
I don't like most of the other people in the project. luckily, I don't have to work with them. it's 95% girls, and I swear today they all wore either black or gray, sat around ignoring me and talking about a previous project and shoes. beh. everyone but Yana, the only friend I'll probably make but a really awesome person. we talked about urinal infections and sex. she's a tiny hyper-active Ukraine that I might like a bit too much.

I don't want to write more about it before absorbing the environment and making up my mind.
for now, I think I'll have an early night and just enjoy lying in bed, cuddling my stuffed animals.

Is it too late for me, it's never too late he says.

rainolive — Thu, 08 May 2008 17:58:33 GMT

Without blindness, there is no sight
You'd see further if you'd only close your eyes
In unconsciousness I can find peace
Inside prison walls I can find release
There is a place that I have seen

Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Down at the water's edge
Somebody waits for me
Is it too late for me
It's never too late, he says

Without blindness, there is failure
People gather by the river
They were talking

There is a place that I have seen
Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Leaning over the side
Trailing my fingertips
Feeling the water slip
Into the quiet night

Viewed from the wrong end of a telescope
I see myself, so far below
Still and silent, rest in peace
The thread unravels
Merciful release

There is a place that I have seen
Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Now I can almost see
Figures upon the shore
He's gathering in the oars
Where are you taking me

this track was playing in my earphones for many months, up the highest mountain, down the lowest valley, it means a lot to me.
so I had to post it here.