Mars Bars

Today I finished my homework at four-ish and my mom took me to Dizengoff Center.

Originally we were going to go walk along Allenby Street and find a better backpack for me, but it started to rain. Israeli rain is cold and windy. So we went to the Center instead.

We weren't extremely successful in finding a bag there: the fact remains that we did not find one. We went to one of my favorite bookstores in the world - and by that I do mean in the world. I fell in love with another bookstore in Italy, but that's beside the point. This bookstore is called, fittingly, "The Library," since it is a great place to sit around and work in. There are reference resources, couches, a work table, and in the kids' corner there are poufs, rugs, and beanbags. The café area outside it has tables that are fashioned to look like piles of books. After spending more time than we needed to there, we ran a few errands, among them visiting the drugstore. At the counter, there were Mars Bars.

I have never tasted one (still haven't, in fact), but I have never seen Mars Bars at any of my local pharmacies. I didn't even know they existed until I read Harry Potter. And then in Maniac Magee, there is a character nicknamed Mars Bar who is always eating his namesake, and I remember distinctly the sentence that says, "Stone was softer than the kid's glare." So I have been wondering what a Mars Bar is. And I bought one. I haven't eaten it yet. But the description of chocolate-covered nougat and caramel sounds delicious.

Cups of tea: something like 35 or 36

Freedom

Today I finished my homework reasonably early - at around 4:15 - so I decided to use my freedom here.

I tossed two cameras, two notebooks, and three pens into a bag, grabbed my key, made sure my cell phone wasn't out of battery, and informed my mom I was going to Park Hayarkon, which is a park around the Yarkon, a river that runs through Tel Aviv. "Yarkon" is related to "yarok," or green, since it is said that the water reflects the trees around it. This time of year it looks like watery mud, too dirty to see through but not dense enough to step on. However, I have been going there for as long as I can remember, and the park itself is beautiful.

It felt good to get out. Sometimes I like walking alone more than walking with others - I can linger over things that catch my fancy and walk fast if I like. It lets me notice things. I am a listener and watcher anyway, not as much of a conversationalist generally.

I was planning to sit somewhere and write - there is no shortage of benches - but I ended up just finding pictures to take and enjoying Golden Hour. I walked a little farther than I usually do, going down close to the dirty water and taking photos. The day was crisp, but not cold in the least, and clear - my favorite kind of day. I found a beautifully made wooden bridge - I loved its simplicity - and walked across. The boards were springy and I could hear every one of my steps echoing against the surface of the water.

On the other side of the Yarkon, I visited the fountain, where a few years ago my cousins and I made small boats out of eucalyptus bark. I found a hoopoe, which is the national bird of Israel, and made my way back across the river. I began to run, faster and faster. I am free. It was a clear day and I am not depressed. I am not depressed.

I am free.

Cups of tea: 34

It's Kind of a Funny Story: Book Recommendation!

Today I finished It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini, a book which was actually recommended to me by a friend.

The book is about Craig, a freshman at a very competitive high school, who is depressed. He doesn't exactly know why - all he knows is that it's hard to do anything, hard to get up in the morning, hard to get through school, hard to deal with the pressure, hard to stomach any food at all. His grades are going down and it becomes a cycle. Finally it becomes so hard that he almost tries to kill himself, so he checks himself into a hospital. There he attempts to find recovery, or as he calls it, "The Shift," something he's been trying but unable to do for a long time, even with the help of therapists and psychologists.

This book really spoke to me because I have been through some of it. I got depressed for the same reason as Craig, and although I could always eat and I wasn't suicidal, he thinks the same thoughts as I did and looks at the world the same way. He also has the same thoughts about getting out of it - he knows he has to because if he keeps living like that he'll die. I don't know how reading it would be for someone who was never depressed, but it is a very powerful book.

Cups of tea: 33

My pathetic library

So in my room here I have two closets. One I use for clothes and the other I sort of share with the rest of my family as a storage space. Which includes my library.

Guess how many physical items are in the corner of one shelf? Three. The Fault in Our Stars, Seize the Story, and my nook. The nook does have about ten titles or so on it, so you could count that. But that's still pretty pathetic, don't you agree? My nook actually has more books on it than the rest of the library put together. That's not hard to do, of course, but still...where are my overflowing shelves back in America?

Cups of tea: 30

SICK

If you know me, you know I do not deal well with colds.

I went to school today anyway and I was going to go home early but the process of that was complicated. Plus missing classes is a bigger offense here than in America, so I decided to grit my teeth and sit through the day. It was one of my worse decisions. Not only was I blowing my nose endlessly, I could barely focus.

So now I'm here, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and drinking tea and blowing my nose and wasting time on the internet. Blech.

Cups of tea: 27

Writing styles

Something I often do is have a story, write it for awhile, then abandon it. I dislike that I do this, but sometimes, years later, I will go back and continue, then re-abandon. That happened recently.

A few months ago, I read in Writer's Digest about a woman who writes scenes as she thinks of them, without any regard as to where they will end up in the stories. Now that I have abandoned yet another story, I have decided to try this approach. All too often, my stories get put away because I tire of writing exposition and I want to write scenes that I am more excited about. So this could be a good process for me. I have a story in my head. But only vaguely. This one seems like a good one to jump around in writing.


Cups of tea: 27

I found this quote...

...and I really want to share it...

So voici, a quote within a picture. I found this on Tumblr.

"Writing: A profession for introverts who want to tell you a story but don't want to make eye contact while telling it."

~John Green

It is extremely true...when you write, you can shut yourself in your house and not see anyone for weeks. Although, that would be downright miserable.

Cups of tea: 26, going on 27

Drawing and Why It Is Fulfilling Even Though It Is Work

Yes, drawing is work. I am not talking about muscle-tiring work, I am talking about brain work. Drawing something, especially someone, so that it actually looks like that person, is mind-draining work. But, like writing is (sometimes), it is the best kind of mind-draining work. Although I will say, writing is not as mind-draining.

However, after spending about two or three hours of my day on a single drawing, it feels good to get it right. And three hours really isn't much work when you think of how long the Sistine Chapel took. No, I would certainly not like to have been Michelangelo. But this drawing which is currently by my elbow and I am rather proud of - it's great for it to be sort of finished.

Cups of tea: 26

Drawing and Why It Is Annoying

My friend's birthday is coming up and I decided to draw her.

Hmmh.

I am referring to three pictures. And I still cannot get it right.

Don't get me wrong, I love art and I love drawing. But the thing that I am worst at drawing is faces. Yes, exactly the thing that I set out to do.

I have, of course, improved greatly since I decided against drawing faces whenever possible. One summer at art camp, our teacher taught us to draw ourselves accurately. I actually captured myself fairly alright. But somehow, I am having, shall we call it, extreme difficulty getting this thing to look like her. Extreme difficulty leads to frustration.

But I WILL NOT GIVE UP. (That's what I've been telling myself since I started. It works.)

Cups of tea: 26

Theater

Because that was the highlight of the day. The other classes were French, in which I have learned what they learn in high school, geography, in which we watched a video on sharks (which, incidentally, don't have much to do with geography), and shelach (של''ח), in which we sorta reviewed stuff and got out of class about five minutes early.

Theater class. Well, the first thing that happened was the introduction of a part I may be playing in this college student's cinema project, in which, if he chooses me, I will be playing a tomboy who becomes girly. 'Tis exciting. And during recess my friends and I sort of went around, looked up something in the library, and went back to the theater room. That room is part of a basement, the walls painted black, the ceiling low with fancy lights and a small stage (which is really just a long step), and the stairwell pasted with endless posters, advertising plays and movies. In the theater room was most of the theater class, being crazy as they were normally. My friends and I set up chairs in the middle of the room, along with a few chairs as footrests. One of my friends propped up her feet on the other's, then two other boys dragged their chairs over and joined the foot-pile, then another girl, and I put mine on top. Eventually the person on the bottom started to complain, so we took our feet down, but somehow the sole of her boot fell off (no one knows precisely how) and the only thing we had to glue it back on was my roll of sellotape, so it was an interesting affair. During the second theater class (we had it double), we reviewed small sections of the production of Romeo and Juliet which we are doing. Neither I nor the other Shira has a part yet. But it was fun anyway.

One of the other highlights of being in theater is that I get to go to plays with my twenty-four person class (which, on a side note, is considered fairly small here). I know we're going to Hamlet sometime, as well as another play I don't remember. Isn't it awesome?

Theater class: the best.

Cups of tea: 26 (no tea pour moi today, but I did drink hot cocoa)

The Israeli Spring of Late January (and a lot about windows)

'Tis the season, the season for spring...even though it's winter?

Today it was sunny (although the clouds have since come back) and quite warm. Exactly like American spring. What month is it again? JANUARY.

But as I was walking home from school, there was an abundance of springy light green and flowers. And just now my mom opened the sliding window that is our living room wall, so we are halfway outside. Here, there is a window, shutters (probably not the kind you're thinking of), and then patterns made out of long strips of metal. It is very permissive of incoming wind and ventilation. Barely anyone has screens. Anything that stops the air flow too much (other than the window itself) is not all that acceptable. We actually have one window that has no glass pane at all, just shutters and the decorative metal.

Above is a picture of a typical large window. You can't really see in this picture whether there is a glass pane or not, and it doesn't have the metal going all the way up, just a short fence-like strip. That's what my grandmother has. Her shutters (the white things that are open in this picture, not the air conditioning) can slide all the way open, so you can be practically outside. Her shutters are open just about from May to September (not slid open, just opened).

That paragraph is very confusing. If you don't get it, never mind. It doesn't matter much.

Cups of tea: 26

Body Image (and its associations with our culture)

I've been reading Uglies. It's about a society in which when a person turns sixteen, they get an operation to turn them "pretty." And since everyone is so used to thinking of them as pretty, normal people are "ugly."

That got me thinking about body image and its role in our society. Everywhere you go, you get pictures of people who are pretty. They are often not as happy and "beautiful" as they seem - sometimes they take drugs or have eating disorders. Some pictures have been doctored to make these people seem more "perfect." Advertising and products always show us this kind of photos, delivering the message that only if you look like that you are pretty or handsome.

People know that this is bad, but somehow we can't avoid it. It's too ingrained in our brains for it to go away. Maybe, in a better world that will exist years from now, people will look back at us and think, "They thought that was pretty? Those people look so unhealthy and unreal." It's the same thing that happened to foot-binding. We look back and think it's ghastly, but people really used to believe that was beauty.

Some people are bullied and harassed about their body, which is something they sometimes can't change. Many of these people are already insecure about the way they look. I had one experience with this, when another person said to some people things about my body that I found hurtful. Certainly, a "perfect" body isn't everything. Isn't it better to have something that functions and lets you do what you would like to do in life?

At this point, I don't think there is anything we can do about our perception of beauty except try to look past it as individuals. Hopefully, one day this view of what is beautiful will have changed into something that can include everyone.

Cups of tea: 26

Quote of the Week

I really super extra want to put a quote from TFiOS in here, but I do not want to be spoilerful. So here is a quote that is found in TFiOS but is also found in one of John's YouTube videos. At least, something similar is found there.

*SEMI-SPOILER ALERT BUT SOMETHING LIKE THE QUOTE IS ALSO ON YOUTUBE SO WHATEVER*

"...Never was Shakespeare more wrong than when he had Cassius note, 'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / but in ourselves.' Easy enough to say when you're a Roman nobleman (or Shakespeare!) but there is no shortage of fault to be found amid our stars."

-Peter Van Houten in The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

TFiOS was AWESOME. Read it.

Cups of tea: 26

J'ai fini!

So I proclaimed when I finished The Fault in Our Stars, aka the book that has officially topped my favorites list.

I am not going to hand out any spoilers. I want everyone to have the same experience I did when reading this wonderful will-be classic. As John Green himself said he hoped it would, it made me feel ALL OF THE THINGS! I did cry, I laughed more than once, it made me think. It is a beautiful work of fiction that somewhere, sometime, in some other parallel life, is true. Fiction is what we call something that isn't real in our world. But it's real, in a place that we call Imagination. Writers spend a lot of time there.

This book made me cry, but unlike Feed and Mockingjay, it did not make me feel depressed afterwards. I do not know if depression has left me. I do not care. Today it has at least gone on vacation. I am hoping very much that it stays there.

Now I have to, in some point in my life, read An Imperial Affliction, if it exists. I strongly encourage you to read TFiOS. It is the best book I've read in a while. And in the acknowledgements, he thanked Nerdfighters for being awesome! That's me! (And hopefully you as well...)

Cups of tea: 26

Flower™

So I have this flower clip that my friend Sophie gave me before I left. I have gotten into the habit of wearing it (I almost fell asleep with it still in my hair last night).

Last week, a girl in my class saw me on the street and said, "Hi, Shira." I did not recognize her at first. The next day in class I saw her and she said, "I recognized you because of the flower." Okay then. The flower is now the non-registered trademark of moi.

Cups of tea: 25

What's in that box?

TFiOS is holy, there's no arguing. It must be preserved, perfect and pristine and SIGNED.

But I wanted to read it in school. In English class you get bonus points if you're reading when the teacher comes in, so that was one reason, and another was that I just wanted to damn well read it.

So what did I do?

I took the box in which the holy book came in and took it to school with the book in it. The book survived this long in that box with no damage whatsoever, so it was a pretty good place to put it.

However, by second period, people began asking me, "What's in that box?" One girl (incidentally another Shira) told me to take the book out and toss the box. NO, I responded, I WILL NOT. It is HOLY. One girl actually recognized the book (on account of the fact that her sister is reading it - I want to meet this sister!).

Today, because I was looking at the box in class out of boredom, I discovered the more than slight over-cautiousness of Israeli security. There is a note on the package that commands you to remember if you were expecting a package. If not, well, it only says to talk to the people at the post office. No telling what they would do with it. Possibly try to detonate it.

I also discovered a sticker in French that informs me of the fact that my book has been to France and Germany. This would never have happened if I had been back in America! So even though it's later than I would have procured it in America, it's pretty awesome that the book has so far been through three continents.

Cups of tea: 25?

Neutral

Today I had the sudden, wonderful realization that I felt neutral. Without forcing myself or holding myself away from negative thoughts. There was none of the depressed feeling in my stomach and I didn't feel giddy. Giddiness was what I thought was happiness in my depression. No, nothing. Neutral.

It doesn't feel bad, like something's missing. It feels very good, like some dirt has been scrubbed off.

I can't help wondering, is this how normal people feel? Because like Hazel of TFiOS, who doesn't remember breathing unassisted, I can't remember not being depressed. And it's only been a year and a half. Amazing what memories disappear in that time.

What is the noun form of neutral? I was thinking about that as I planned out this blog post in my head on the way home from school. Is it neutralness? Neutrality? Neutralation? What is the name for this unnaturally amazing unfamiliar feeling?

THE FAULT IN OUR STARS IS HERE AND IT'S HOLY

Exactly what the title says.

And why is it holy?

Because John Green signed it. HE ACTUALLY HAS PHYSICALLY SIGNED IT. His signature is red, if you were wondering. Most of them were green. Some were purple. I got red. I cannot put into words how excited I am for it to BE HERE.

The reason John Green is so amazing is because he is a leader of Nerdfighteria and he's a brilliant author. Yes, John, if every you stumble across this blog post, which it is very likely you won't, I want you to know that you are one of my role models. I want to be able to write as powerfully as you can. Not better than you (because frankly, that would be close to impossible) but I would like to move people with words. As you do. And besides that you're a great YouTuber with views that I mostly agree with. I say mostly because I have not seen all of your videos.

Why am I addressing someone who will likely never read this post? I have no idea. Do not question the bipolar depressed lunatic. Which I am pretty close to being, really, if I'm not that yet.

Cups of tea: 24

To the Post Office!

So just now, we went to the post office to pick up a package which my mom thought was some sheet music for the Magnificat she's playing in a few weeks, but NO! Guess what it was!

It's so exciting!

IT'S THE FAULT IN OUR STARS! BY JOHN GREEN! THE BOOK THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO ARRIVE MID-FEBRUARY! AHHH!

Now I shall open it...

My depressed morning

I wake up at quarter of seven. Like I'm supposed to. Except I'm so exhausted I can barely do anything. My dream was something about finding paths, riding in bikes and cars and trying to find a way. It's hazy and cloudy and going-around-in-circles like the rest of the dreams I've had when I'm depressed and exhausted and I know I need to sleep. I stumble to the next room over, my parents' room. As usual, my dad's up already and my mom's still in bed. I crash down onto their futon and toss the covers over me. My mom reaches over and hugs me.

"Do you want to go to school late today?" she asks. I shake my head. If I go, I go on time. "Do you want not to go to school at all?" I think about it for about a second and nod. I close my eyes and stay in my mom's embrace for a few minutes. "Go back to bed," she says. I reluctantly leave the safety of her hug. I need someone to shield me from the world.

I toss and turn, then finally, after a few possible minutes of sleep, I grab the iPad, which has been here since last night. I check my email, Mugglenet, YouTube. I can't shut off the queasy uneasiness that is the familiar depression in my stomach. I reach over, pick up my nook. My friend told me to read It's Kind of a Funny Story so I buy it. I go back to the iPad. Then it's breakfast time. I eat my scrambled egg, a roll with some cottage cheese, some vegetables, and a cup of chocolate milk. My parents tell me we will go outside later today.

After breakfast I return to my room. I read the first two chapters of It's Kind of a Funny Story. It's a book about a suicidal depressed guy. He's worse off than I am, but his thoughts sound too familiar. I press the home button on the nook and toss it aside. Put my head in my hands.

I get on the floor and do twenty situps.

Nothing helps.

If I could talk to my friends now, I wouldn't. Maybe I would text them. But I can't do it when I'm like this. I can't stand knowing they're that far away. And they hate it besides when I text them in such a state. When I do talk to them, it feels okay. But after it I feel awful. I try to write it out in poems, prose, whatever - put it into words - but it doesn't come out right. Besides, no one really likes reading the words of a half-mad depressed person.

It's cloudy out. The sun doesn't even bother.

All the time I'm thinking, there's no way out.

I want to go home, but at the same time I don't. Home is where I first got depressed.

I don't want to do anything.

I want everything to stop.

Stop.

Stop.

---

I wrote that just now. It is a log of this morning. It sort of helps. A bit.

The Missing-itis: Depression, take 2

Well, here we go again.

Lst January I thought I was over it, I really did. But hey-o, I couldn't have been more wrong.

The summer was when it started up again. There were days when I would stay at home and watch YouTube all day. It made me feel trapped again, trapped in my own life. No, I was not and am not going to commit suicide. But I still felt trapped. It was better when I got out and about, but still.

The fall, that is, school, looked really great in September. It was good all through the fall. But all along I was anticipating coming here. And towards November and December it went back. Then I get here and, WHAM. It's here. Full-force. For a while, singing to myself before I went to sleep helped, and sleeping itself always does, of course. But when I start texting and chatting and FaceTime-ing my friends, it comes back. Sometimes they'll say something like, "Oh, ___ and I are doing ___ tomorrow" or "I'm sitting next to ___" and I get this pang, the discontent just bubbling up, mixed with sadness. I cry sometimes before I go to sleep. I find myself crying at YouTube videos that I watched with my friends or ones that I watched a lot during the fall. I text my friends that I hate my life and then look back at our conversations and realize how utterly idiotically horribly irrationally pessimistic I sounded. And then I beat myself up over that. And then at school I put on my happy girl personality. It worked during the first couple of days of school here, but I find myself longing to speak English and be back home. That's another thing that's been bothering me. Right now I have no doubt that America is home. And then I realize that after this I will never again have one home, never again be wholly tied to one place. And then I get sad over that. It just goes on and on and on...and it's too much for one brain to hold.

A lot of writers go mad. No one knows exactly why. But my theory is that a mixture of solitude, perfectionism, self-judgement, and over-understanding brings it about. Writers have to know and understand people more than some in order to write a good story. Or maybe, as they say, you have to turn bad days into good stories. Perhaps writers have an over-abundance of those.

I don't know. At night I often really do hate my life, like a burning black candle that eats away at my sanity. And I hate that in itself.

A friend of mine recently commented that I shouldn't be depressed. It's true, I shouldn't. And that too sometimes makes me feel worse. I resolved to try, but sometimes it's no use. I can't have it all in my head. Which is why I'm writing this blog post.

I can't...

I can't...

I can't...

And I miss home...

I want to go home...

TGIF

I shared the title with my Israeli friends, to which they said, "Oh, that's what it means!" So I'm proud to provide that info. I love being a know-it-all. Another thing about that is that today I was the only person in the class who knew where the Ganges River was. And it's not even in America, so it's not like that was a contributing factor. Then, in history class, guess what we're learning about? The events leading up to the American Revolution. The teacher won't call on me because she knows I have a wider scope of knowledge than the rest of the class on this topic (we just spent about two or three months on this kind of thing back home). She presented a slightly mistranslated version of "taxation without representation is tyranny!", which irritated me and called the Boston Massacre a "protest" which it wasn't really. And then I had these interesting tidbits of information which I was dying to share but couldn't because firstly, I couldn't get the translation together in my head, and secondly, the teacher was reluctant to call on me.

I love my Friday schedule - I only have four periods and it goes from 8:45 (that's when first period starts - teenager hours) until 12:15. On the way home I went to Abramovich Garden and ate my chocolate croissant, which took all of recess to procure at the kiosk, and I watched the alley cats, pigeons, and what I thought were hoopoes (the national bird of Israel). Then I made my way home.

After a bit, we went to my grandma's house for a mid-day meal of pepper soup, roasted beef, meatballs, and compote (yes, it was a ton of food). Then we bundled into the car and drove off to Haifa. Now we're here and my youngest cousin is asleep (after eating some of my kinder joy and greatly enjoying the plane that came in his), the middle cousin is reading a Phineas and Ferb Hebrew comic book (after being extremely loud the whole evening), and the oldest cousin has taken my nook and is searching the shop for science books. It's...interesting here, shall we say.

Cups of tea: 23

Stars

Today was probably the first entirely clear day we've had here. And tonight is the first clear night I remember.

The reason it matters to me is the stars.

I love stars, astronomy, all that stuff. To think that we're looking into the past, yet into the beyond - that's mind-blowing. And it's hard to get your head around the enormity of the universe, the vast expanse out there - and we may or may not be the only life forms in it.

But what matters to me most is the connection it brings to us on earth. Maybe, thousands of miles away, there is someone else, looking up at the sky, just as I am. I found Orion tonight - it's probably the only constellation I'd recognize anywhere - and it's significant to me because I know that back home they can see it too. Maybe they were staring out the window during school just as I was looking out there. They couldn't see the stars just as I could, right at that moment - but it doesn't matter.

I don't know why the sky and stars mean so much to me, but if you think about it, the sky is one thing that binds us together. In fact, we are biologically geared to find blue a comforting color because of the sky (and the ocean), which is something we can always count on. Packages and products are often blue because of this. It's actually very interesting how we're programmed to respond to our surroundings.

You never know what opportunities lie out there. So look up at the sky - you never know who's looking there too.

Cups of tea: 19

Quote of the Week: Take 2

Occasionally, when I find quotes I really love, I put them into an email draft and never send them. I was looking through my drafts just now, to see if I could do some cleaning out, and I found a brilliant quote by my hero herself.

"It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all - in which case, you fail by default."

–J. K. Rowling

 Isn't it so true? I tend to beat myself up over my past mistakes, so this quote is a good one for me to remember. Hating my failures was part of what got me depressed, so coming across this back in the height of it would have been helpful.

Cups of tea: 19

French, Theater, and Rain

That was most of the day. French was first and last period (don't ask me why, I don't know). I also had geography, as well as shelach (של''ח), which is basically a class on Israeli geography and the like. Then I had theater class, which today was a giant improv class. It was probably one of the best classes yet, even though some people don't necessarily like it. There was absolutely no reading or writing involved, which made it a nice break from spelling and note-taking and such.

In French class we were asked to write a short conversation and present it, without memorization. I wrote one in my own French vocabulary. After my friend and I presented ours, the teacher took it and translated it for the class, since they didn't know half of it. "What, she speaks French fluently!" they said.

Geography was a sort of bore. It was all note-taking, but the subject was of fair interest to me. I was not intensely focused (which means I was doodling when I wasn't taking notes), but it wasn't all that bad, after he was through with yelling at people for not being prepared and talking.

Today was fairly uneventful in the ways of interesting Israeli habits. I ended an hour earlier than I thought I would, since I thought I had double French but I didn't, so I stood around for fifteen minutes after school and talked to my friends, who I have now discovered are entirely addicted to Dizengoff Center, the giant mall in the middle of Tel Aviv on two sides of the street. How much time does this mean I'll be spending there...? But I don't really mind, because the Center, as it's called, is awesome. There is absolutely everything there. It's much more fun than any other mall I've been to. After the fifteen minutes of talking my friends had an extra science class, so I started slowly walking home. I stopped by to inspect Abramovich Garden (I know! Abramovich!) which is the park in my neighborhood. I love the freedom I have here - I can get anywhere I need to on foot or on public transportation. It feels good to be able to do these things.

Cups of tea: 16; drinking #17

Quote of the Week

I forgot! I nearly forgot! I can't believe myself! I'll give you a more carefully picked quote later this week. 

"Only as high as I reach can I grow 
Only as far as I seek can I go 
Only as deep as I look can I see
 Only as much as I dream can I be."

~Karen Ravn

I found this in our school assignment notebook, back in 6th grade when all the quotes were new. I wanted to do something with it, but I didn't get around to it until now.

Cheers, guys! One week away from home has already passed - I can't believe it!

Cups of tea: 15

School: Day 2

Today was my second Israeli school day.

Today was easier than yesterday, firstly because I knew sort of what to expect, and secondly because the lessons were less based on a rich Hebrew vocabulary. I had PE, science, math, English, and French. PE was, of course, PE - but in Israel, unlike in America, it's boys and girls separately. The school dentist came to look at our teeth, proclaiming that everyone's were in good shape. Then we had to run for five minutes...that was not my strong point, but I survived. We walked to cool down, then stretched and did a few exercises, after which class was over. During science I got paired up with a student teacher, who taught me about electrical circuits, half of which I already knew, but I reviewed it in Hebrew. Science was a double class - an hour and a half - and after it there was our long recess, in which you're allowed to wander the school and do what you want. My friend recommended a chocolate croissant at the kiosk in the school courtyard, so I bought one. She bought a doughnut. Not healthy in the least, but that's not of much concern here. She and another girl showed me around the school some more and informed me of the habits of the math teacher, whom we had next, and some extra tidbits about the school. I finished my doughnut and washed the excess chocolate off my hands, barely making it to math on time. I was relieved to find that the class is doing something that I have already done a bit of. I actually knew some things they didn't, which I was proud of. In that class I finally got it into my head that here you don't put your hand up, you put up your pointer finger. After math, in which the teacher assigned a fair amount of homework (which later gave me a headache from all the numbers), I had English class. The funny thing about that was that I wasn't put in the highest class. Even before the lesson, the teacher resolved to talk to the person who organizes the classes in order to move me to the "outstanding" class (that's the literal translation of what they call that class). During English, the teacher (who does have an accent in English) asked me to read a few sections. One of them, I noted very excitedly, was a paragraph on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and the brilliance of J. K. Rowling. I found it funny when they called Voldemort (or as Peeves the poltergeist and I like to call him, Voldy) a "mean wizard" like he was some sort of elementary school bully. In another section, I read at normal speed, in my American accent. Half the class turned around to look at me. "You read so fast," they said. "Well, that's what happens when a person lives in an English-speaking country," said the teacher.

My last lesson was French. Most of the things they're doing are things I've done before, with a few words sprinkled in that I've only heard of but can basically figure out. We conjugated verbs that I thankfully learned this year and completed a page in our workbooks that my teacher in America would assign as a five-minute review. I completed it within five minutes and waited for the rest of the class.

After school, as we've been doing the entire time we've been here, I walked to my grandmother's and met up with my family, where we ate dinner. Dinner in its old-fashioned sense: the biggest meal of the day, which in this case is in mid-day. That's the way it is here. For breakfast and supper you eat bread with various condiments, salad, and eggs. After dinner and supper it is customary to drink, or at least offer, tea.

Today I was explaining American school to my friends. "It's so strict!" they exclaimed. Yesterday, when I told them about the no phones rule, they asked, "Well, what do you do in class, then?" "Learn." "What about the boring classes?" "Learn, talk, draw, do other homework." They looked at me like I was from another planet.

Cups of tea: 15

School: First Day

Today was the first day of school here. A big day, I suppose. I was rather disoriented. It feels like school, but at the same time it doesn't.

Today a lot of what I did was sit in my seat and do nothing. In the first class, I barely paid any attention; the teacher said I didn't have to take the notes. I came in halfway through the lesson anyhow, so it didn't matter. One girl was enlisted to help me out throughout the day - people told me that she was the nicest girl in the class, and the least hyperactive and crazy. She's also a good student.

Coming here is somewhat of a shock, but at the same time I was expecting it. The kids in my class are far wilder than in America. It's a good thing we have recess, otherwise the whole place would be a total madhouse. And during recess, music plays loudly. There is a small kiosk in one of the courtyards, where you can buy breads and chocolates and candy. There's a snack machine with all sorts of unhealthy goodies.

The schedule is...interesting. There is one day where half of my classes are math. Most of the days I do go to school during what is called something like zeroeth period, which starts at 8 am, but on Sundays and Fridays I start in first period - 8:45. It's the only middle/high school in Tel Aviv in which 8:00 isn't the time first period starts. Sunday I end at 1, Monday at 2, Tuesday at 2:45, Wednesday and Thursday at 3:30, and Friday at 12:15. It's a fairly convenient schedule, although I'm not too happy about the 8:00-3:30 days. That's not much fun. At least Friday is a short day...

I just realized today how alone I would be without internet. I mean, the people at school are nice, but I don't know them as well as my friends at home. I have my family, but no close friends here yet. It was startling, just realizing that. It feels like I'm stranded, alone in a wide world. And it's only been a week since I saw them last.

Cups of tea: 13; 14 if you count the one I'm drinking now

Haifa

Part of my family lives in Haifa. So here we are. My cousins are crowding around the iPad and one of them is trying to press the space bar every time I pause. Another is eating Bamba, an Israeli snack made of peanuts. A third is reading over my shoulder. And now they went to investigate the scissors on the kitchen table. Hmm. They're all under ten. Now the youngest, who is under three, is taking the space bar presser's spot.

It's lots of fun here playing around with my cousins and being with the family up here. We can only come when we have no school, since Haifa is an hour away from home. But it's great being here all the same.

Cups of tea: 11

Missing my Friends

Yesterday the internet was up at a decent hour, so I was able to chat with my friends. We still haven't got a router, so we're still gleaning Internet from where we can find it.

It was weird how just seeing one friend's face made me miss them. I can't even get my head around the fact that I won't see them for six months. I've got the memories but it isn't enough. I have my family and I love spending time with them but I hate not being able to see my friends.

Cups of tea: 7

Tall(ish)

Back in the US, when I'm around my friends and family, I generally feel rather short. My parents are taller than me. It's not so much my close friends as other people outside my group that make me feel short, although I do have one friend who is among the tallest girls in our grade. She's a few inches taller than me, but then again sometimes she wears high heels to parties. Then you almost have to crane your neck to look her in the eye.

But then I get here and I'm taller than half my extended family, including my eighteen-year-old cousin. It feels strange, to say the least. Most of these people have always been taller, or at least the same height, as me. They all tell me how tall I've gotten. It's really strange to be even a centimeter taller than them. Hmm.

And I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, my tall friend. But it's sorta true.

Cups of tea: 7

Internet Woes

There is some sort of mess with our router. The last tenant here thought the router belonged to her work, so she took it along. However, it belongs to this place. Bezeq won't give us another router, so we're just sneaking internet from wherever we can find some until she gets the router back.

I am so dependent on internet. Especially now we're in Israel. I have not spoken to any of my friends since Sunday night because of the non-dependable internet. Sigh. These are my internet woes.

Cups of tea: 7

Tel Aviv Museum

Today we went to the museum. We saw an exhibit titled "Running in Circles" which was a modern art exhibit of circles presented in various ways. There was also one titled "Ex Libris" which was an interesting presentation of a library. It was two circular bookshelves, but there were no books, so the room had an empty feeling. There was a rather large exhibit of Israeli art, after which my brother was tired so we went home. Then we went outside to the large area in front of the museum.

It was a fairly warm night. The sky was dark blue, the clouds gray and clearly defined. The lights from surrounding buildings twinkled. I could see the silhouette of a street musician against the museum's wide bright windows, his merry trumpet music floating over the street. Someone was selling soft pretzels. "Hot pretzels!" he yelled. "Three for ten shekels!" We bought four for fifteen shekels. They were warm, soft, salty. The night was alive with people - the museum is open until 10 on Thursdays. Children crowded the pretzel seller and many stopped to listen to the trumpeter.

The biggest thing for me was that I felt like I belonged. It wasn't during the school day, so no one would look at me and think, "Why isn't she at school?" And it didn't feel foreign, walking the streets. Already I've got a sense of where some things are, unlike the times when we were only here for three weeks and I followed my relatives everywhere. Being in the city, abuzz with noise, feels right somehow. I suppose I've got city blood in my veins.

Cups of tea: 7

Cleaning. Again.

Here we are, supposedly just done with cleaning the house in the US. And now, lo and behold, our apartment here is filthy.

So we're cleaning. Vacuuming and wiping down and dusting. It's not much fun.

Cups of tea: 5

School

So I haven't gone to school since Friday. I won't be going until Sunday. But today I went to meet the eighth grade guidance counselor at the school. An interesting experience.

For one thing, the school is larger than my old school. Much larger. It starts at seventh grade and goes all the way until high school. I'm used to being the oldest grade in the school. Not so. Now I'm the second youngest. It's strange, really.

The environment is rather different than my old school. Calling out in class is rather acceptable. Last night, my grandmother specifically told me not to be shy at all when talking to the guidance counselor, to really exaggerate. The teachers are friendlier with the students - they have casual conversations with students in the halls, just as you would with a peer - but at the same time they've got authority.

The setup is basically a high school setup. You can choose electives and majors, unlike at my old school, where there were barely any electives, and they were rather limited. This school is supposed to be the most relaxed school in the city, so there are no uniforms except for PE class, in which you have to wear a certain shirt with the name of the school on it. The majors are more diverse than at any other school in the city.

I'm going to be a pack mule these next six months. You take your bag, full of all the books, to every class. You're expected to be prepared for practically anything. They gave me an awesome planner, which I hope I will use - I am notorious for buying planners and then doing nothing with them.

This blog post is rather disconnected. Oh well.

Cups of tea: 5

How things work in Israel

To any purebred American, Israel can be a bit...jarring, shall we say.

About a week ago, my uncle went to find out about the school I'm going to go to. I'm the third generation in my family to go there. "Fine," said the person he talked to. "Everything should be set. Just let me know which school she wants to go to." Yesterday, my mom went to the school to sort it out. "There's no room," they say. "We have forty kids in a class. It's the biggest grade, all around the city. Absolutely not. We would love to accept you with open arms, we know this is the third generation, but we have no room whatsoever." This morning, she went again. At first, it was the same as yesterday, but gradually they relented. "There's room. We'll put her in the class with the least kids. She'll be the thirty-ninth." At the school, when my mom arrived, there was music blasting. "Yeah," says the principal, "it's like this every morning from 11:05 to 11:30." Also, in the middle of a conversation, the principal spotted a boy with baggy jeans. "Lift your pants up, honey," she says, in between sentences about how the school works.

Earlier today, my aunt was talking to a salesperson over the phone about getting a SIM card. The salesperson says, "I'll send a messenger over to you. You won't have to do anything." "But it's for my brother-in-law," my aunt replies. "So?" asks the salesperson. "You see him often enough, don't you? We give it to you, you give it to him. What's the problem?" Literally, that was what they were planning to do.

I've noticed that I'm drinking far more tea than in America. Not black tea. Herbal tea. If it was black tea I'd be bouncing off the walls. Coffee is very popular here as well. Going to someone's house for coffee is very common. Generally that means coffee or tea. I drink tea.

Here in Tel Aviv, people walk everywhere. If they don't walk, they take public transportation. Today it rained. In Israel, winter means rain. So there was a thunderstorm. My mom and I sat around at my grandma's apartment, saying, "Ah, when the rain stops, we'll walk home." After half an hour, I said, "Alright, let's go. It doesn't look like it's going to stop." So we took umbrellas and went down to the street. "What's the problem?" I demanded. "It's not even snow." Turns out rain can be worse. By the end of the ten minutes it took to get home, my shoes were filled with water and my jeans were sopping wet. Not fun, not fun. But Tel Aviv isn't the place to drive. Taxis or buses, yes. Or "service taxis" as they're called, which are vans that take the routes of buses but don't have fixed stops - they'll let you off anywhere along the way. You can get by without owning a car here.

When we arrived, our entire family jumped to give us stuff. Most of the things we use, including silverware, bedding, and towels, are courtesy of our family. My aunt and grandma bought super-soft blankets for my brother and me. They keep looking around our house for things that we need.

This morning, my cousin got drafted to the army. She's eighteen, so like almost all Israelis her age, she's going. She's coming back every two weeks. It's normal here. No one makes a big deal of it at all, so it's just like when she was at boarding school. In fact, it's the exact same schedule. So for the amount we see her, she might as well be at boarding school. Only it's much stricter.

Here, you work or go to school six days a week. I haven't gone to any school at all so far and likely I won't until Sunday. It's a bit like a vacation, just settling in and seeing family and wasting time on the internet. But then we'll start with the "six days a week" thing. However, sometimes, my cousin says, classes are canceled, so you might go to school late or end early. I can't say I'm not looking forward to that.

Cups of tea: 4

Saying Goodbye, Day 7

Even though it's two or three days after the fact, I'm writing this post anyway. I have a heck of a lot to write because my friends have started to bother me over email about it. I have totally lost my sense of time because of the traveling. Jetlag and time zone change do not bode well with my mental clock. So I think it's Wednesday but I can't be sure.

We woke up at 5 am on Monday. I woke up on my own, as I always do when I tell myself to. Alarm clocks are backup. When I know what time it is, I can always wake up on time, as long as I slept enough. Which I sort of did.

So we woke up and got everything together. I had a cereal bar, some candied ginger, and a glass of milk for a semi-breakfast. I ended up having three meals that were supposed to be breakfasts. The taxi arrived at 6 am and we were off. I said a silent goodbye to the house and my neighborhood before my uncle, who was at our house, called to say that we forgot the charger for one of our computers. So we circled back and I said a second goodbye. The drive to the airport was fairly uneventful.

We went through security and went to find somewhere to have another breakfast. There was a Starbucks not far from our gate and I got a fruit parfait which was a pretty good second breakfast. And the sugary first breakfast I'd had wasn't going to last. After eating and waiting, we boarded the plane to London. Can I mention that I was extremely excited to be in the UK, if only for two hours?

The route to the runway was a goodbye route for me. You could see the Boston skyline and it really felt like a decent goodbye. When we took off we flew over the Islands. They looked like tiny diorama models of the city. I don't think I've ever had such a good view of the harbor during takeoff. I even spotted Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket through a gap in the clouds.

Seven hours on a plane, as bad as it might sound, isn't all that horrible. My dad told me not to sleep on the first flight so that my sleep schedule would be better once we reached Israel. I get really bad jetlag, so I obeyed. I sat down to write a detailed log of the morning, which I am referring to as I write this post. Then they brought breakfast. I wrote down exactly what it was:

a cheese omelet
potatoes
mushrooms
2 orange slices
grapes (or, as I say with my retainer, grapesh)
1 slice of honeydew melon
1 muffin
1 bottle of water
1 pack of crackers with fake spreadable cheese
pretzel sticks
1 cookie
1 Kitkat candy bar

It really wasn't a bad breakfast. That was my third. For airline food, it was pretty good.

I sat there reading for about another hour. I finished my book. Unfortunately, it was on my nook and I couldn't get the sequel through internet because of course there wasn't any. So I filmed my brother in the seat behind me and the clouds outside. That took up another hour, because I discovered that my old camera has a ton of settings to play with and was testing them all out.

Since we were flying eastward, the day was short. The sun set at 1 pm. That freaked me out a bit, because I realized it was fifth period at school. I read a food magazine that was in my mom's seat-back pocket, which made me hungry. I don't know how long it was before they brought lunch:

a turkey and cheese sandwich (and some mayonnaise)
1 Twix bar (which I was psyched about since Twix is my favorite)

Shortly after lunch, we landed. The local time in London was something around 8:30 pm. We were rather rushed, since we had only two hours between flights. I was really excited about the British accents everywhere, which I couldn't help but imitate later on. My favorite line was the recorded announcement that I heard as someone was checking our tickets: "Attention. Any unattended baggage will be removed and destroyed." It's not so much the content as the voice that made me crack up.

After wandering about the distinctly mall-like section of the airport where our gate was, I located a Harrods store and some designer shops, but I obviously didn't enter any of them. Then, half an hour early, we boarded the plane. I snatched a "Welcome to London" pamphlet from the pile in the hallway-thing on the way to the plane. We sat around for the ten minutes it takes for boarding and preparation. Shortly after takeoff, we received the best airline food I've ever had:

chicken curry
rice
cole slaw (which was bright purple)
water
roll of bread (and butter)
chocolate-caramel mousse (the best part - how can something with chocolate and caramel not be good?)

After the meal, someone came by with some tea, which made me smile. I watch way too much charlieissocoollike. I would have gotten some tea if I hadn't been planning to sleep. I ended up only snoozing two hours, which did not make up for my overall lack of rest. I had to wake up, however, because we were going to land. I did not want my ears to pop.

Landing in Israel is always pretty. You fly over Tel Aviv to land in an airport not too far from the city, but far enough that you fly over some fields of crops. After we landed, the captain informed us of the time and temperature over the PA. "Welcome to quite a lovely morning here in Tel Aviv...we're about twenty-five minutes ahead of schedule, I hope that suits you."

Cups of tea drunk this year: 3

Quote of the Week

I've decided to do it a day early this week, since tomorrow I won't have any time whatsoever, not to mention no internet. I've picked a few, because this week is so crazily out of the ordinary.

"Well, you know what? Life is change. There is no such thing as permanence." – My ballet teacher said this this week. He was referring to a girl who didn't want to shift her spot because it was where she always stood. But really, that's what is going on right now in my life. No permanence. Not even something long-lasting.

"As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come...and he would have to meet it when it did." – Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling, page 752 (last line) of American paperback edition. This is one of my favorite Harry Potter lines ever, and that's saying a lot. It encompasses so much of what is going on right now. I don't know what is going to happen, but I'll get through it. When I first read it in fourth grade, it didn't affect me as much (I was too eager to get on to book 5), but when I rediscovered it this year, it was a little shocking, because that's exactly how I feel.

"So kiss me and smile for me / Tell me that you'll wait for me / Hold me like you'll never let me go / 'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane / Don't know when I'll be back again / Oh babe, I hate to go" – "Leaving on a Jet Plane" by John Denver. I first heard this song at Nature's Classroom two months ago, when we sang it on our last night. I can't quite describe the shock I got when listening to it, followed by sadness. I think it was one of the first times I really did register that I was leaving. And even though I do know when I'll be back (it would really be depressing if I didn't), it felt like I was hearing my own situation. It literally almost made me cry.

Realness scale: 4

Saying Goodbye, Day 6

Today is boring in some ways. Well, boring to talk about. But there's a whole lot to do.

I'm packing up my room right now, putting away half of my bookshelf, my glass bottle and jar collection, and my drawerful of notebooks. The next task is emptying the desk and putting away my typewriter. We have to do some (very) last-minute shopping as well. I have to pack my pens, notebooks, camera, and nook into my carry-on.

The strangest thing about today is that it's my last full day here before we go. Tonight is the last night. That is something far too outlandish for my mind to grasp at the moment. It feels like a normal Sunday, no ballet or any activities. Just staying home, doing what I have to do.

My aunt and uncle came from New York to help out and to take some stuff off our hands. It's great to hang around with them. You simply can't feel bad when they're around, so it's good that they're here. To think that in less than twenty-four hours I'll be on a plane - that's just crazy. Absolutely crazy. I can't imagine leaving here now.

It's weird, after I said goodbye to my friends, I felt like I was hanging in midair, with space all around me. I have no real obligations except to myself and to my family. It feels good, in a way. But also sad, because I'm not going to see my friends for so long.

Realness scale: 4

Saying Goodbye, Day 5: Part 2

I just said goodbye to my group of school friends. Well, my really good ones.
It's weirder than I thought, thinking about not seeing them in person for the next six months. It feels like I'll be at school on Monday.
The gathering was surprisingly normal while it lasted. Except for the talk of "I'll miss you so much." That wouldn't normally happen. But we did, I guess, what girls are supposed to do - sit around and talk and, in the case of our technology-obsessed group, play around with iPhones and such. It was normal.
Then people started leaving, and we had a prolonged group hug. And then we all went outside and I hadn't put on my shoes so my feet were freezing. I must have hugged each of them at least ten times. One of them started crying, and then I did too. I started laughing. I was laughing and crying and it was all a blur of hugging and talking and waving and then they were all gone. I remember the image of two of them, lit from behind by a streetlight. I don't think I could have photographed this moment. It was too magical, almost, to be captured.
I noticed the stars. The night is clear and the night is bluish-black, the moon bright, the stars twinkling brilliantly. I found Orion through the branches of the oak next to our driveway. It seems mystical, almost, how beautiful the sky is, even through my tears.
They all got into their cars and drove off, waving and waving and waving...

Then they were gone...

Saying Goodbye, Day 5: Part 1

I've decided to do this post in two parts because the second part must stand alone for me.
Today was goodbye to my ballet school. My ballet teacher made me promise to write to them. She also gave me a "good spot," which is standing in front of the mirror. I won't deny that it was nice to have lots of space, but I rather dislike standing right up next to the mirror. Other than that, class was lots of fun – we learned grand pas de chat, which is now one of my favorite steps. My friend Yinuo half-suffocated me after class with a hug. It doesn't feel like leaving.
Character class was really great as well. My character teacher was in a good mood, and we learned a lot of new steps, including a plié in "Jewish character" which was enjoyable. We did a new Mazurka in the center. It was really strange to bid goodbye to my class - I see them four days a week. And then today - just a hug goodbye. Even some girls who I don't know that well hugged me.

Realness scale: 8

Packing

There are piles of clothes on my bed and others in the wash or in the dryer or air-drying and the whole house is kind of a mess. All the cabinets have been labeled with sticky notes for the renter that's coming in later this month. It has an air of excitement. And a lot of procrastination.
There is last-minute shopping to do and things to arrange and outfits to put aside for tomorrow and Monday so we don't pack them and electronics to be charged. I was barely allowed to check my email today. Now that all my stuff is together, I've sneaked some time to write a blog post. And read a bit of Catching Fire. It's a relief to be done.
That is, except for the shoes to buy and clothes to put in the suitcase. So I suppose I'd better go back to that. Sigh.

Saying Goodbye, Day 4

Today was a significant day: the last day at my middle school. Ever.
It was a considerable hugfest, with almost each teacher I said goodbye to hugging me. They all wished me good luck and safe travels. I thanked them. There isn't anything that you're automatically supposed to say when someone goes away for six months, so I suppose there wasn't much more to say. I'll miss them, I guess, in a nostalgic kind of way. Eighth grade has been one of the best years of my life so far.
In my last class, science, I did my best to call out and be like the people who I normally get so irritated about. I mean, what other chance did I have? And it wasn't like the packet we were doing, which will be a study guide for an upcoming test, was going to affect me. I mean, I read what I needed to. I know the material. I was one of the loud kids in the back of the class. It was one of the best science classes ever. I think the teachers gave me a bit of leeway today. I suppose if it were any other time of year, I would have at least gotten yelled at, but not today.
I bid goodbye to some of my friends. It's weird, but almost too real in a way, to say goodbye to them. I don't know exactly how to explain it. It's surreal, but at the same time it feels like the situation is too perceptible.
Then today I had my last pointe and modern classes. Fridays are always awesome because of those. It's strange, like everything else. But it had to happen sometime.

Realness scale: 7

Saying Goodbye, Day 3

Today I said goodbye to braces. No more monthly orthodontist visits, no more "I can't eat this because it might break a bracket." But now there are retainers. Ugh.
As well as saying goodbye to a dental contraption, I said goodbye to orchestra class. Yesterday I had said goodbye to chorus. Those are two of my favorite classes, and they're taught by the same teacher, so I'm saying goodbye to him. The only difference between him and the other teachers is that he has taught me for the past five years. A bit scary to be leaving him.
Other people left behind: my science teacher and one of my favorite ballet teachers. That ballet teacher has taught me on and off since I was ten.
It's scary to be leaving people like this. It's people I see every week or even every day, and all they can say is "good luck, safe travels, make friends, have fun, tell me what happens, goodbye" and then I respond with a "thank you, bye." It doesn't feel like I'm leaving them, but at the same time, things are becoming realer and realer as it draws closer. Tomorrow is my last day at my school. Cupboards are being cleaned out and my family's trademark mess is slowly disappearing from the house. Soon it will be like other rented houses: nameless, without personality.
Tomorrow will be so final. I'm not looking forward to it. It's like this week is this bubble of light, and you know its skin is stretched, thin enough to pop any second. You know it will pop, you just don't know when. That's what this feels like. I don't know when everything will crash down on me. It may well be in the middle of Heathrow airport, where we're stopping on the way, but I don't know. I can't know. All I can do is try and prepare myself.

Realness scale: 9

Retainersh

And yes, the title was meant to be spelled that way.
Today I got my braces off and my retainers on. Braces off: good thing. Retainers: bad thing. They hurt like crazy sometimes and when I wear them they give me a lisp. The top one eshpecially makesh me talk like thish.
Basically they feel like someone stuck a giant glob of plastic in my mouth, exactly where it affects my speech. Which is what it is, really. Plastic and metal wires. Ugh.
I was really excited to get the braces off, but the retainers are the worst in the history of all the contraptions I've had in my mouth. That's taking into account my expander, previous braces, lingual arch, and the braces I just got off. I can't imagine having to wear these 24/7. At night, yeah. But in the day? When I have to talk? I already got made fun of multiple times today (you know who you are). Ugh. Retainersh. Ugh. Hate them.

Saying Goodbye, Day Two

Strange things abound when you're the only one in the school to leave mid-year.
It's strange that it's less than a week away. It's strange that there are homework assignments that I don't need to do because I won't be there. It's strange that I'm saying goodbye to some teachers. It's strange that people are excited for me. It's strange that these are the last days I've been anticipating for the past year, preparing and steeling myself.
I could go on and on.
But now I'm on top of things and everything's starting to wind down. I got my ballet teachers presents, I have all my homework done, I went to visit my fifth grade teacher, I'm making a list of emails and giving out my blog address for people who want to know what will be happening. And I need to go by postcards. That's on the to-do list, which thankfully is growing ever shorter.
Everything is coming together so fast. Tomorrow I'm getting my braces off and getting my retainer, which is cutting it quite close and seems like waiting for disaster. But hey, these things have been permanently in my mouth since December 2009 or so. I'm more than happy to get 'em off. It means no more monthly visits to the orthodontist, easier cleaning of teeth, and less limitations in food. I am giving thanks.

I said goodbye to a few teachers today, among them my French, Latin, 5th grade, and one of my favorite ballet teachers. All of them bade me good luck. It feels like I'm off on an adventure, and in fact I am. Here we go on a journey.

Realness Scale: 8

Saying Goodbye, Day One

I am calling this day one even though I started my goodbyes a while ago. I don't know exactly where I started hearing "and if I don't see you before you go...", but it has been going on for about a month.
However, today is officially the last Tuesday before we go. Therefore, some of my activities today have been my last, including my afterschool program. It was strange, saying goodbye to these people. It's always been, "oh, see you next week," but today, no, it's goodbye, because the program is just for middle school.
It was also my last day of Hebrew class today, in which my teacher did not check our homework (and good thing too – I didn't do it) and sent me to the other room to fill out a packet while coaching the others in SAT prep. Yes, you can do Hebrew SATs. I was doing my own SAT packet and I finished well before the others. There was a lot of hugging and then we said goodbye.
People have been giving me a lot of hugs. Not that I don't normally hug people, it just seems that there is an abundance of hugging from people whom I don't usually hug. Teachers especially. It's a bit strange. Everything at this point is a bit strange.
So far, I have quite a few emails I will already have to be sending, along with some good old-fashioned postcards. All my friends, as well as my Hebrew teacher, have requested that I send them emails. Will do. Besides, it gives me an excuse to waste time on the internet. And my English teacher is the one who requested the postcards. I guess I'll do that too.

 Realness scale (how real it feels from 1 to 10, 10 being the highest): 4

Quote of the Week

I love quotes. I read them, interpret them, memorize them. So I have decided that, like my friend Yinuo was doing for a bit on her blog (http://fadingchildhood.blogspot.com/), I'm going to do a "quote of the week." One quote every Monday. Something for me to look forward to.
So. This week's quote is from Feed by M. T. Anderson. I read that a few days ago. It's something that I have been saying for awhile, which is why I like it so much.

♫ "'It makes good times even better because you know they're going to end.'"


The character who says this is Violet, a girl who is dying. It really fits what I've been posting here. If you haven't yet, I encourage you to read Feed. It's worth it. 
Now to go find more quotes.

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By the way, on a grammar note – there are three quotation marks around that quote. Two are because it is a quote; the third is for a quote within a quote (i.e. if someone is saying something). If you were in Britain, it would be reversed.

Imaginary Friends

A while ago, it must have been about a year or so, I came across this quote: "Writer's Block. When the voices in your head stop talking." I laughed, that's so true, blah blah. I didn't think I really related to it.
But now I realize that for a long time I did have voices in my head, sort of. Not the kind you usually think of - I do not "hear voices." When I was younger I imagined a crowd of people, all looking sort of the same, sitting in front of my old house 24/7. Literally, I imagined them sleeping there. It sounds extremely stalker-like, but it wasn't. They were just there, not really doing anything. When I was alone, I used to talk to them. I don't remember exactly what I used to say, but it stretched through kindergarten and maybe through first grade. At age three, they were the people I always visualized as the main characters of stories that were told to me. I don't think it was still that way by kindergarten, but I don't remember.
I'm not really sure why I wrote a blog post about this. I suppose I wanted to know, is anyone else like this? Or am I alone?

Frenzy

That's the general word to describe this week. But by now it's a good frenzy, not really a bad one.
Packing has officially begun, with the lists being made and suitcases being bought.
Today I went to check out the website of the school I'm going to and frankly, it looks awesome. I will have actual electives, not something that is called an elective but is really only a mandatory subject as it is in my current school. And the school bell schedules are normal, nothing about 8:56 in the morning or 1:01 in the afternoon (no joke, the school schedule used to have a class that ended at 1:01). And recess. Oh, recess. Such a distant luxury.
Speaking of schools, I will be sort of glad in a way to get back into school. It's not that bad when you know it's going to end within four days and you're going to be off somewhere else. I'm looking forward to this week, especially because my English teacher is coming back from a break after surgery. She's a really good teacher (anyone who dresses up as Hermione is considered awesome) and it's so much fun to be in her class. Just for English, I really wish I was staying. That is a class I'm really sad to miss.
I suppose it's about time that I start getting excited, at least some of the time. This is an opportunity, not the end of the world. And I'll be coming back. I suppose by then I'll be sad to come back, to leave somewhere I've been for six months. But we'll see when we get there. For now, there's packing to do and last-minute things to arrange and cupboards and closets to empty. Enough to think about without the rest.
This is the one-week mark. Seven days. And seven's supposed to be a magic number.

New Year's Day Open House

Today we had, as the title of this post informs you, our New Year's day open house. We've done it every year for as long as I can remember.
My friends and I were initially messing around with technology up in my room. Then, slightly bored by the aimlessness of it, we took a short walk outside. Then we came back and somehow the party turned to roughhousing. Although it was still enjoyable, it was a bit brutal at times. Basically we were all doing various things, and people were messing around on my typewriter then trying to hide what they wrote and it turned into a whole mess. Finally it ended and we returned to eating candy and playing games and messing around with the computers. Then everybody slowly trickled out. A very good New Year's party all in all.
I know this post is really unedited, but there really isn't much to write. It was an open house which mainly consisted of random spur-of-the-moment actions. And eating all the food.
Probably one of my best New Year's days ever. Thanks to all my friends for making it that way!

New Year's with my buddies

I have borrowed my friend's computer for the moment. We are that obsessed with technology - we bring laptops to sleepovers.
Basically, it is the early hours of New Year's day, even though the blogger time might not show it because my account time is messed-up. At midnight, we opened a bottle of sparkling cider (miserably failing and having to use no less than three bottle openers). I am extraordinarily hyper. I really think there was something in those lemon squares, but it might be just sugar. My friends and I are like that, although I am the most susceptible to sugar. We have the strangest sense of humor - we find very eccentric things funny. I hadn't really realized that until today, or rather tonight, or - well - morning? I'm tiredly hyper. Don't ask me to figure this out.
Anyway, HAPPY NEW YEAR! May it be better than the last!

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I asked my friends to come over here and read my post to see if I should change anything, but they're just sitting on the pool table watching gruesome YouTube videos and listening to music on their iPhones. This is my life. Wince.
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And now I read that out loud to them. They didn't even listen. Just laughing at their iPhones. Double wince.
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Finally they listened to me. I told them they were included in my blog post, not necessarily in a good way. Then they looked back at their iPhones.