Ugh

It has not been a good few days.

Or it has.

But I'm just not feeling good. I'm not sick or anything. I just feel blechy.

I feel like I annoy people when I message them. Also Halloween is this week and NaNoWriMo is starting and term is ending soon and I've got projects due and our freshman play is showing mid-November and I need to work on my speech for speech team.

Also I've been thinking about my girlfriend's school a lot. They have an open house today. I think I would like going there. But I think I don't want to transfer for another person. And I do like my school, I really do. I just don't know. And I don't want to leave my friends. But I would love going there. But I don't want to. I want to love where I am and let it stay that way.

I'm worried I'm getting bad again.

A dream

Today I thought of Israel, and suddenly it didn't feel like it ever happened.

Suddenly people forget that I was ever gone.

Suddenly it all feels like a dream, like something that fades away as the day goes on until finally I don't remember and it doesn't affect me anymore.

Is this what was always going to happen?

It's scaring me. Really scaring me.

But every so often I have these weird almost flashback things. It happens when I'm thinking about nothing in particular and suddenly it feels like I had something, something I can't even grasp anymore, and I just miss it so much. Like on Saturday, when I was in a cupcake shop with my girlfriend and Titanium came on the radio and it reminded me of the surprise party my friends and I threw for one girl's birthday, because Titanium came on and I was singing really loudly to it. The sliding glass door to the balcony was open and a summer evening breeze was coming in. At one point in the party I just went outside and stood there and thought of the impending end of Israel, the end I'd felt like would never come. There was a flock of black birds that took flight over the dirty white buildings, the graffiti showing the more permanent expressions of free speech. It was quieter than inside but I could still hear all the cars and bustle on Allenby and King George street, and I felt nowhere but everywhere, almost like floating. I don't know if I'll feel it again.

And sitting in the cupcake shop it just hit me, how much it's faded from my memory, and how much I do miss the people I met and the places I love and the friends I made. It feels like a dream now because it was, it was a beautiful way to start over and remake myself. The dream is over, but I guess it will always lurk in my subconscious. I hope it never disappears.

Going and going and going and going and going and going

Lately I've been feeling like I'm just going and going and going without ever getting anywhere. It's like I'm going on the same circular track and I'm just starting to notice it. All day long, I have this horrible feeling of dejà-vu, like this is something that has happened before. And I feel like it's happened a lot.
It's times like these when my depression was at its worst. I felt like this all the time last year, like I was just existing in circles. My life felt like a trap.
So here I am, at home, supposed to be doing my homework and feeling horrid. And now I don't know what to type, because everything I do is like I've done it before.
And I'm still unexcited for the holidays, especially because I have to clean my room as well as pack. So. Yay, unexcitability. Isn't this so (not) lovely.

Holidays and Unexcitedness

Yesterday was the first night of Hanukka. And don't tell me to put an h at the end; I don't think it belongs there. If it didn't look so weird I would spell it Khanuka, because that, in my opinion, is the transliteration, or as close as you can get to it in English.
Anyway, enough about spelling. Today is the first night of Hanukka. Christmas is on Sunday. Kwanzaa starts on Monday. This holiday season has to be the one I have dreaded the most in my life.
Why? Oh, only because I am going on sabbatical ten days after it. No biggie. Nah. Six months away from home? Nothing to dread. Nothing to be uncertain about.
It's not that I'm dreading being there as much as I'm dreading not being here. I'm sort of looking forward to being there, but what about all that goes on here? What about my life here?
I don't know what to think.
Gah.
This is why I am unexcited for the holidays.

Lollies

My cello teacher is one of the awesomest people to walk this earth. And not just because she made us homemade lollipops for the holidays. They're all in holiday-themed molds. Currently, I have a butterscotch angel in my mouth and am feeling utterly immature.
Which is exactly it. What is it that classifies things as "mature" and "immature?" Is there an automatic line between them? Because I sure as heck can't see it.
Yes, there's the aspect of making decisions and making the right ones. But what about other stuff, like lollies and skipping and not caring if anyone is watching? Does that classify one as "immature?" Because if it does, I plan to be "immature" for the rest of my life. So what if it's not "cool?" Do I have to pretend to be steely and unfeeling, or disdainful of people who skip and sing and love lollipops and don't care what others think?
What is maturity? I think it's knowing your principles and making good decisions. Forcing yourself into being the opposite of what you really are is not mature. You want to skip down the hall? Fine, as long as you've got a good head on your shoulders. That's all I care about.
That, and this lolly. Yum.

Comments

This post is something technical that has nothing whatsoever to do with me. At least I hope not.
I've been trying to comment on some people's blogs, and it just - won't - let - me. Not even on my own blog!
Any idea as to what is going on?

I went to my friend's Bar Mitzva

So yesterday, I went to my friend's Bar Mitzva. Even though I was sick and runny-nosed and blechy, I had an amazing time. The service was pretty fun in the first place, watching a friend of mine since preschool become a Bar Mitzva. But I really had the time of my life at the evening party.
There was ice cream there - which of course means I got hyper. There was also an abundance of board games, a dance floor, and a cleared area for ball games. Tag was played throughout the hall.
I spent the party mostly running around and dancing, though I did play a game of Bananagrams against some adults who had a considerably larger vocabulary than I did. I obviously didn't win, but I didn't come in last place either, of which I was quite proud.
I was one of two girls invited because of a friendship with the actual center of attention, and I was the only girl chasing the boys around. I challenged one to an arm wrestling match, which he declined. I ended up chasing him around the hall at least five times. Then the Bar Mitzva boy started mocking me (Ooooo-you-like-him kind of mocking) so I chased him. They ended up fending me off by tossing hula hoops at me (don't ask). I officially have a reputation among the boys for being "scary."
After that, I decided to go dance. It was really a lot of fun just to do improvisation and let myself go loose. I haven't done that in a long time, just dancing like no one is watching and without holding any sort of structure in my body. I knew a lot of the people there since I was about three, so it didn't matter how crazy I got, not really.
Another highlight of the evening was being reminded that once upon a time I had been the "white queen." When we were three, the Bar Mitzva boy had named all his classmates after chess pieces. He had been the white king, I think, and I had been the white queen. I remember the titles of a few other classmates (they were bishops and pawns), but I had forgotten about it. I think he was the first one to teach me a bit of chess. It's weird how I had forgotten about it until someone had reminded me, and then it all came flooding back.
It isn't often that I see my preschool friends, but when I do, I love it. There's a connection about having been friends since we were two feet tall that you can't erase. We all have different friends that we usually spend time with, but it's always a lot of fun to just come back to the friends that we've been tied to the longest.
Congrats to Noah!

Depression

I don't know if you know this, but I have had depression.
You're thirteen, you might say. What reason would you have to be depressed?
No reason. My life is good. I don't have any problems. Nothing horrible ever happened to me. But like many teens out there, I got depression.
Everyone can be sad sometimes. Being sad is good when it's short. But when it stretches into something that lasts weeks, maybe months, that's when it gets out of hand. That's when it gets horrible. I could put in a whole lot of not-so-polite language as to how horrible it is.
If you haven't had it, depression is undescribable. It's the kind of thing that you can understand but not feel. For me, it was like there was a fist around my chest, squeezing harder and harder. Sometimes I would get queasiness or headaches. It wasn't like I didn't know something was wrong with me. I did, but I felt like no one knew and no one cared.
Which brings me to another point. If you are depressed, you will know what I mean when I say that you feel isolated in your suffering. You feel like you're the only one. And you're afraid to talk about it, because someone might dismiss it as something trivial or make fun of you. But you can't help but want to scream your suffering, let it out somehow. Maybe you think about suicide.
All I want to tell you is you're not alone. And as much of a failure you may think you are now, you're not. I guarantee it. Someone out there does care. Someone does love you. Someone out there will help you get out of it. You don't even have to tell them anything if you don't want to. Just know that you're not alone. And that it isn't permanent.
This is my best effort to help. If you are depressed, you may not believe that stuff up there. But I have been through it. I'm not going to say that if I can get through it, so can you, because that isn't always true. But you don't need to suffer. 
Come out of the dark. When you see light again, you'll find that you missed it.

On Leaving

So. As you may or may not know, I am leaving for Israel in under a month for a sabbatical.
Today I was thinking about it more than usual. Well, every day seems to see me thinking more about it. I don't know whether to be happy or sad or neutral or both or - oh, it's just a big mess.
Today a friend of mine held a holiday party. As usual, I got hyper on sweets and Izzy sodas. I do my best to live up to that reputation, even if it isn't always my choice as to what I do when I'm hyper. But now, it seems especially important to be with my friends as much as possible. It's really hard for me to think about the fact that when I leave, I won't see this every day. That part still seems a bit surreal to me. I know it's going to happen, but I only half believe it. Each day, each time I think about it, it seems more real. It's like I'm carving something over time. A year ago, it was a lump of rock with barely a shape, but now it's almost completely formed. And every time I see my friends at school, I try to make the most of it, to hold on to each moment - because soon I won't have this.
So today, as we watched X-Men and joked and screamed and laughed, I kept thinking to myself, Enjoy this. And I did. I thoroughly did, even though I have a runny nose and a bit of a headache. It doesn't matter anymore. I found this quote in Time magazine a few years back in an article titled, "Why Israel Doesn't Want Peace" (and I will get to my angry feelings about such things later):
"Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today."
It was in a picture, tattooed on someone's arm. Even though it was supporting an argument that I thoroughly do not agree with, I found myself thinking about that quote, so much that I committed it to memory. And now it's coming to my aid. That's what I'm planning to do with my last few weeks. That's what I'm planning to do with the rest of my life, really. I could die tomorrow. And what if I did? I'll know that whatever happens, I'll have had my time on earth to the fullest. I procrastinate sometimes, yes. But not when it matters. Now is the time. You want to live your dream? Today is the day. These few weeks, I don't care who tells me what and how.
At times like these, I feel as if I've stepped back to look at my world as a whole, and everything seems brighter, the colors sharper, yet the images blurred together in a mass of light and sound. Does it matter that I'm a small human being, only a blink to the millions, billions, trillions of years that our universe has in it? I look at my world, and it's imperfect. But that way it's all the more beautiful.

Harry Potter

I figured I should really make a post about this.
Harry Potter is, as I have mentioned, a big part of my life. I consider myself like Hermione Granger, a total nerdy know-it-all, even though she's braver than I am. One of the things I like about Harry Potter is that it is an intelligent franchise, based on a brilliantly written series of books. I will be forever indebted to Mr. West, my fourth grade teacher, who introduced the wonderful series to me. Both the movies and the books are beautifully imperfect. And the person who started it all - the amazing Ms. J. K. Rowling - is now my hero.
Last summer, with the release of Deathly Hallows part 2, some said that Harry Potter was over. I will agree that a part of it died with the final appearance of the jaggedly written title on the big screen. But in some ways, Harry Potter will never die. What about us, the fans? What about Pottermore? What about Wizarding World? Harry Potter was an amazing phenomenon that will stay alive as we move into the future. I myself will not let this die. And how can it? Harry Potter brought together legions of people from all sorts of nationalities, backgrounds, and personalities. Could such a thing die?
At the midnight release of Deathly Hallows part 2, some cried. Yes, I cried throughout the whole movie - it is simply impossible not to. But I laughed too. I cheered along with the theaterful of Potterheads when Ron and Hermione kissed, when Mrs. Weasley said her totally awesome "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU ***!", when Neville cut off Nagini's head. And after the epilogue, I definitely saw some people crying. But you know what? I couldn't cry. I would not let myself believe that Harry Potter was over. I had cried in the months before when trailers were released, and I nearly bawled when the big trio, the producers, David Yates, and J. K. Rowling said goodbye. YouTube is loaded with videos that made me cry in the weeks and months before July 15th, 2011. But now, as I look back, I only cried because they were beautiful. It is not the end. It never will be.
Harry Potter, 1990-forever.

War

Living in this day and age, you come in contact with a lot of war-talk. Not to mention all the historic wars you learn about in school.
My view on war is that it may not be right, but it is inevitable. Humans, by nature, will disagree. We will kill each other. It must happen. Most of us consider killing one of our own kind a horrible deed, yet it happens all the time. We look upon animals killing each other as some kind of awful thing, but we, if left to our instincts, would likely do the same. True, I do not think it is right to stamp out another person's life. That is exactly what war is based on, though - we do something to others that is not right to them. If killing were not considered so horrible, it would not happen in war. If we considered sneezing on another person awful, war would be a bunch of people sneezing on each other. It sounds laughable, but it's true.
What do you think?

Ballet

As you may know, I dance ballet.
I'm not that dancer who's top in every class and the teachers are lavishing praise on me; I'm rather the opposite. I have to work my hardest to get noticed at all, and usually when I do get noticed it is a small correction. But it's worth that much more. Since Friday, I have maintained a "getting noticed" streak for every class, which I am planning to keep up.
Another thing about ballet teachers - besides their immense favoritism - is that they love making connections, analogies, and inspirational speeches. Some of my favorites are:
"Ballet is hard, and then you die."
"You can't let things happen to you. You have to make things happen."
"You can't come into class saying, Oh, I'm so bad at this. I hate this step. Because that way you won't get better. You have to figure out a way to say to yourself, Oh, I guess they're kind of ok. They're pretty fun, actually. Then you will improve."
Some of the things they say are things that are worth it even outside the studio. And sometimes, when you're having a bad day, ballet will lift your spirits. The teachers love making jokes about just about anything, including mistakes that you make. They can generally get a laugh out of all of us.
Ballet is an immense commitment at this age, because you're basically on a professional track. If I was good enough, I could, from this level, continue to a life in professional dance. So it's a big commitment - but definitely worth it.
Dancers, who's with me?

Fading Childhood

The only reason the idea to make this blog ever entered my brain was because of Yinuo, or "Thing 2." If you get the chance, go check out her blog, Fading Childhood:

http://fadingchildhood.blogspot.com/

Thanks, Yinuo, for inspiring me!

On Being Bilingual

So I am bilingual. I have a few friends who, like me, have parents of another nationality (i.e. not American).
Being bilingual has never been anything special to me - obviously, it's been with me my whole life, from Hebrew being my first language to this year, going on sabbatical to Israel. I never thought about it much before now - I just took it for granted that I was, in that way, special. But as I look at what spending more than 3 weeks at a time in Israel will be like, I realize that it's a really different kind of life. Speaking a different language at home. Being of two or more nationalities. Learning two alphabets. Knowing two countries.
It's especially saddening to me when I look to the future. I am a worrier, so I worry over everything. Where will I live if I grow up? If I stay here, I will miss Israel. If I stay in Israel, I will miss America. Yes, I do think about that. Some of my friends have their entire dream life planned out. All I know for now is that I will write. Maybe English, maybe Hebrew. Maybe here, maybe in Israel. How am I supposed to know for sure? I have more options than most.
Do you worry about your future? What about you, bilingual friends? Have you thought about it yet?

What's a skyhook?

Exactly the right question.
Google defines "skyhook" as:

Noun:

1. An imaginary or fanciful device by which something could be suspended in the air.
2. A false hope, or a premise or argument which has no logical grounds.

Basically, it's up for your own interpretation.
Welcome to my world.
My name is Shira (as you no doubt can see). I go by many self-imposed titles, among them writer, reader, artist, dancer (sort of), thinker, arguer, and Harry Potter fan extraordinaire. I would like to say that last one up front. Just so you know.
And remember - "A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort." ~ Herm Albright. No idea who he is, but by the looks of it, he's a genius.