Me: Hmm. I want to meet my girlfriend's friends!
Me: Over Thanksgiving!
Me: Why don't I start a Facebook group message!
(a few days pass)
Me: (in chat) So, what are we thinking to do? Where? Any ideas? There aren't any movies I particularly want to see...
(hours later)
Me: Hmm. No replies.
(an hour later)
Me: What are we doing tomorrow?
Girlfriend: I don't know, text me when you figure it out.
(after procrastinating endlessly, attempting to contact other people, and failing)
Me: AHH!
Me: What to do?
Me: Harvard Square? I sort of know it and anyway you can find most things there...
Me: Central Square? I used to live there and there are nice places...
Me: Just a café? But what would we do?
Me: Where do they live anyway?
Me: WHICH DO I CHOOSE?!
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Monday, October 8, 2012
Simchat Torah
Yeah, yeah, I hate that "ch" instead of a nice throaty sound, but that's the way to spell it without it looking weird.
Anyway.
This evening through tomorrow is Simchat Torah. That means that we've finished reading the Torah and are starting over again from Bereshit, which is Genesis in English. What's special about it for me is that it's sometimes the only time in the whole year when I actually go to temple (yeah, sometimes I'm ashamed of that fact). But at least it's one time, and at least it never changes. There's always a few hakafot (rounds) inside and then we bring it out to the street, which is always closed off for the purpose.
My dad, my brother, and I arrived for the beginning of the outdoor hakafot. I found my preschool friends and hugged them. I haven't seen some of them since last Simchat Torah, which was a year ago. It's funny that after all that happened, all the insanity of the past year - it's still the same, the same people still know me, it's still been a year since I saw them, the bronze leaf-shaped plaque with my name that my grandmother paid for is still on the big tree of bronze leaves, I still get hyper, the same insanity ensues. My preschool friends and I set out on a mission to change the direction in which the circles travelled. More often than not, it simply resulted in the circle breaking and half the people continuing the way they had been before, but we succeeded a few times. I saw the director of Frosh play there, which was a bit disconcerting but really awesome. By the fifth hakafa or so, there was candy downstairs. Perhaps a bit stupidly, I ingested a cup of apple cider and about five candy bars. It showed really, really quickly.
My preschool friend: Okay, I'm done with this apple.
(he tossed the core in the trash)
Me: KILL that apple core!
Him: What. What happened to you.
Me: Everything.
Him: Yeah, it does seem like that...
Then we passed by a lot of people, many of whom I didn't know. My friend would basically high-five them or something and then:
Me: HI!
Random person: Hi.
My friend: She's really hyper on candy. Really, really hyper.
Me: Yep!
Then we continued revolutionizing the directions of the circles and got a hold of a Torah scroll, forming our own small circle. By now the sugar was totally in my head and I was laughing and laughing and laughing. And people were singing and screaming and running and dancing and everyone was sort of high on the emotion everywhere. It makes you feel like the world will always be okay, the same few people still know and remember you, the same stars will shine above you, the same prayers will be said in the same language and you'll still be the only one in your vicinity with the proper accent. It doesn't matter where you go. Home will still be home.
As it neared 9 pm it was evident that we had to go, since there's school tomorrow and it will be my birthday. In some ways, this seemed like one of the best birthday presents I could get, the day of the year that inspires me the most, because it's always somehow the same, no matter where I've been. More than Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, Simchat Torah makes me feel like I can start a new year cleanly, because I've gone back to one of my first homes.
I searched for my friend to say goodbye, but he was at the heart of the concentric circles with a Torah in his arms. Finally, we turned to go back down the rest of the one-way street and onto the familiar brick sidewalks to the car. The bright lights and party and the endless amount of people seemed faraway again, just a crowd in front of a building. The sugar rush began to die down.
And as we walked the familiarly foreign streets, it occurred to me that maybe I didn't have to say goodbye. All my life I've been saying goodbyes. But they never are. And hopefully, they never will be.
Anyway.
This evening through tomorrow is Simchat Torah. That means that we've finished reading the Torah and are starting over again from Bereshit, which is Genesis in English. What's special about it for me is that it's sometimes the only time in the whole year when I actually go to temple (yeah, sometimes I'm ashamed of that fact). But at least it's one time, and at least it never changes. There's always a few hakafot (rounds) inside and then we bring it out to the street, which is always closed off for the purpose.
My dad, my brother, and I arrived for the beginning of the outdoor hakafot. I found my preschool friends and hugged them. I haven't seen some of them since last Simchat Torah, which was a year ago. It's funny that after all that happened, all the insanity of the past year - it's still the same, the same people still know me, it's still been a year since I saw them, the bronze leaf-shaped plaque with my name that my grandmother paid for is still on the big tree of bronze leaves, I still get hyper, the same insanity ensues. My preschool friends and I set out on a mission to change the direction in which the circles travelled. More often than not, it simply resulted in the circle breaking and half the people continuing the way they had been before, but we succeeded a few times. I saw the director of Frosh play there, which was a bit disconcerting but really awesome. By the fifth hakafa or so, there was candy downstairs. Perhaps a bit stupidly, I ingested a cup of apple cider and about five candy bars. It showed really, really quickly.
My preschool friend: Okay, I'm done with this apple.
(he tossed the core in the trash)
Me: KILL that apple core!
Him: What. What happened to you.
Me: Everything.
Him: Yeah, it does seem like that...
Then we passed by a lot of people, many of whom I didn't know. My friend would basically high-five them or something and then:
Me: HI!
Random person: Hi.
My friend: She's really hyper on candy. Really, really hyper.
Me: Yep!
Then we continued revolutionizing the directions of the circles and got a hold of a Torah scroll, forming our own small circle. By now the sugar was totally in my head and I was laughing and laughing and laughing. And people were singing and screaming and running and dancing and everyone was sort of high on the emotion everywhere. It makes you feel like the world will always be okay, the same few people still know and remember you, the same stars will shine above you, the same prayers will be said in the same language and you'll still be the only one in your vicinity with the proper accent. It doesn't matter where you go. Home will still be home.
As it neared 9 pm it was evident that we had to go, since there's school tomorrow and it will be my birthday. In some ways, this seemed like one of the best birthday presents I could get, the day of the year that inspires me the most, because it's always somehow the same, no matter where I've been. More than Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, Simchat Torah makes me feel like I can start a new year cleanly, because I've gone back to one of my first homes.
I searched for my friend to say goodbye, but he was at the heart of the concentric circles with a Torah in his arms. Finally, we turned to go back down the rest of the one-way street and onto the familiar brick sidewalks to the car. The bright lights and party and the endless amount of people seemed faraway again, just a crowd in front of a building. The sugar rush began to die down.
And as we walked the familiarly foreign streets, it occurred to me that maybe I didn't have to say goodbye. All my life I've been saying goodbyes. But they never are. And hopefully, they never will be.
Monday, October 1, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Nostalgia and some realizations
I'm in one of those moods when you really want to cry but you can't so you can't get it out and you're stuck in this sort of pool of sadness, some of it pointless. Often it's nostalgia. It is now.
See, today I thought about Israel. I miss it a lot. Sometimes it just doesn't feel like that was life at all, just a story that I can tell, one that most people are really interested in.
I miss it, I miss my family, I miss my friends, I miss our tiny apartment and my strip of blue wall and the public transportation and school. Six months can be so long but so short.
And my girlfriend is at another school now and suddenly I can see how it might have been for my friends back here. Oh, it must have been hard. I miss her so much at school and every so often she'll come up in conversation and we'll ask why she isn't here, and we'll remember that she went to a different high school and none of us can really talk to her because she's so busy.
I just hope that we won't stop at least attempting to see each other. I want to have fun at school and I want her to have fun at her school but I wish we could talk.
I wish a lot of things.
See, today I thought about Israel. I miss it a lot. Sometimes it just doesn't feel like that was life at all, just a story that I can tell, one that most people are really interested in.
I miss it, I miss my family, I miss my friends, I miss our tiny apartment and my strip of blue wall and the public transportation and school. Six months can be so long but so short.
And my girlfriend is at another school now and suddenly I can see how it might have been for my friends back here. Oh, it must have been hard. I miss her so much at school and every so often she'll come up in conversation and we'll ask why she isn't here, and we'll remember that she went to a different high school and none of us can really talk to her because she's so busy.
I just hope that we won't stop at least attempting to see each other. I want to have fun at school and I want her to have fun at her school but I wish we could talk.
I wish a lot of things.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Great Friends
Me: Oh, hi! (...I haven't seen you in eight months...)
Her: Fuck you.
Me: Thanks. (I missed you too!)
Which pretty much sums up our sort-of friendship. It's all in jest, all in jest.
Her: Fuck you.
Me: Thanks. (I missed you too!)
Which pretty much sums up our sort-of friendship. It's all in jest, all in jest.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Ice Cream Whatagain
Well.
Yesterday I went to something at the high school I'll be at starting Tuesday. They called it an ice cream social.
Just ponder that for a minute. What?
STOP TACKING FANCY NAMES ONTO THINGS.
Okay, sorry. I'll continue now.
The only reason I went was that we were getting our schedules.
So.
I went to the "student center" (aka cafeteria for normal folk like you and me) and stood in line for like ten minutes to get the schedule. I got it, and it looked like this:
A block: Directed Study
B block: Directed Study
C block: Directed Study
ETC.
I looked at it for about a minute and finally thought, "That can't be right..."
And then I had to go to the office and get it sorted out and I missed the looking around the school and getting a tour and whatever. Take a moment to pity me.
...
Thank you.
So after that I went back to the cafeteria for a Schedule Comparison Fest and various processed sweet frozen stuff. Processed sweet frozen stuff happens to be delicious, which made it a little less irritating that almost none of my friends are in my classes.
After looking at my schedule just now I've decided that the schedule times make absolutely no sense. I may be vastly confused for the first month or so, hmm...
Yesterday I went to something at the high school I'll be at starting Tuesday. They called it an ice cream social.
Just ponder that for a minute. What?
STOP TACKING FANCY NAMES ONTO THINGS.
Okay, sorry. I'll continue now.
The only reason I went was that we were getting our schedules.
So.
I went to the "student center" (aka cafeteria for normal folk like you and me) and stood in line for like ten minutes to get the schedule. I got it, and it looked like this:
A block: Directed Study
B block: Directed Study
C block: Directed Study
ETC.
I looked at it for about a minute and finally thought, "That can't be right..."
And then I had to go to the office and get it sorted out and I missed the looking around the school and getting a tour and whatever. Take a moment to pity me.
...
Thank you.
So after that I went back to the cafeteria for a Schedule Comparison Fest and various processed sweet frozen stuff. Processed sweet frozen stuff happens to be delicious, which made it a little less irritating that almost none of my friends are in my classes.
After looking at my schedule just now I've decided that the schedule times make absolutely no sense. I may be vastly confused for the first month or so, hmm...
Thursday, August 16, 2012
I am a bad girl, me
So I went to ceramics, which was awesome. I painted a teacup I made with white and copper-green slip and I'm going to glaze it tomorrow.
Of course, since I wasn't throwing today (only trimming and painting and sitting around because I didn't make enough stuff this week to keep myself occupied), I, as well as my wheel, was much less dirty. So I cleaned up my stuff and then my friends and I basically ditched the class. (Oh well...the classroom was pretty clean anyways...)
We were upstairs and my friend and I were unlocking my bike from the railing by the door and another one was sitting on the railing and then my friend asked me to come get ice cream with her. At first I said no, I shouldn't, I should get home, because my grandparents will be expecting me (my parents are in the Berkshires). But then we started riding and I thought, what the hell, why not, ice cream is amazing.
So we went to Cabot's and each got an American small-size (which of course is medium to large size everywhere else) and stood around finishing them off. By then it was around six, and class had ended at 5:30.
Of course, I was expected to be a little late because I had to pick up a book at the library, but not as late as I was going to be now.
But anyway, she agreed to stop by the library with me. As we leaned our bikes on the bike-tying things (but didn't lock them because it's tedious) I called my grandparents and said that I'd had to stick around and help clean. Which was basically the opposite of what had happened. But whatever.
I checked out my request (The Night Circus, for anyone who cares) and another book that I saw that looked cool and I decided to check out (and I still have no idea what it is) and then we kept riding towards home. We take the back streets, since I hate one of the intersections on the way. Suddenly I noticed that in front of one house, the part between the sidewalk (or "pavement" if you're British) and the road, where usually there's water-wasting grass that the city maintains, someone had planted tomatoes.
Of course, we stopped and stole some. (To be fair, I think it's city property anyway, so whatever.) They were good. Literally just-picked. Nothing like it.
Soon we got to my driveway and we went our separate ways.
And this is why I relish my freedom.
Of course, since I wasn't throwing today (only trimming and painting and sitting around because I didn't make enough stuff this week to keep myself occupied), I, as well as my wheel, was much less dirty. So I cleaned up my stuff and then my friends and I basically ditched the class. (Oh well...the classroom was pretty clean anyways...)
We were upstairs and my friend and I were unlocking my bike from the railing by the door and another one was sitting on the railing and then my friend asked me to come get ice cream with her. At first I said no, I shouldn't, I should get home, because my grandparents will be expecting me (my parents are in the Berkshires). But then we started riding and I thought, what the hell, why not, ice cream is amazing.
So we went to Cabot's and each got an American small-size (which of course is medium to large size everywhere else) and stood around finishing them off. By then it was around six, and class had ended at 5:30.
Of course, I was expected to be a little late because I had to pick up a book at the library, but not as late as I was going to be now.
But anyway, she agreed to stop by the library with me. As we leaned our bikes on the bike-tying things (but didn't lock them because it's tedious) I called my grandparents and said that I'd had to stick around and help clean. Which was basically the opposite of what had happened. But whatever.
I checked out my request (The Night Circus, for anyone who cares) and another book that I saw that looked cool and I decided to check out (and I still have no idea what it is) and then we kept riding towards home. We take the back streets, since I hate one of the intersections on the way. Suddenly I noticed that in front of one house, the part between the sidewalk (or "pavement" if you're British) and the road, where usually there's water-wasting grass that the city maintains, someone had planted tomatoes.
Of course, we stopped and stole some. (To be fair, I think it's city property anyway, so whatever.) They were good. Literally just-picked. Nothing like it.
Soon we got to my driveway and we went our separate ways.
And this is why I relish my freedom.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
So we were on Facebook chat
My friend: Hello Ms. Purple!
Me: purple?!
Me: what does purple have to do with anything?
Him: It's a random color, that's all!
Me: uhhh
Me: okay then
Him: You can call me Mr. Black or any other color
Me: so we're color people now?
Him: yes, this is Avatar
Me: lovely
Me: Avatar as in The Last Airbender?
Him: no, the freaking Spielberg movie
Him: they're all blue!
Me: right right right
Me: but we would be from a different planet
Me: because we're not blue
Him: don't get into details
Me: ...
Common peoples of the earth: please address my esteemed self as "Miss Purple" (because as of now I am young and unmarried) and my glorified friend as Sir Orange.
Me: purple?!
Me: what does purple have to do with anything?
Him: It's a random color, that's all!
Me: uhhh
Me: okay then
Him: You can call me Mr. Black or any other color
Me: so we're color people now?
Him: yes, this is Avatar
Me: lovely
Me: Avatar as in The Last Airbender?
Him: no, the freaking Spielberg movie
Him: they're all blue!
Me: right right right
Me: but we would be from a different planet
Me: because we're not blue
Him: don't get into details
Me: ...
Common peoples of the earth: please address my esteemed self as "Miss Purple" (because as of now I am young and unmarried) and my glorified friend as Sir Orange.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Throwin'
I always feel the need to clarify this. In ceramics, the term "throwing pots" does not mean we're all chucking vases at the walls; it means we're making clay pots on the pottery wheel. Just making sure everyone knows.
This week I'm attending Afternoon Ceramics at the art center nearby. I skipped it on Monday in favor of a day at the beach with my friend but yesterday I arrived for class in clothes made for turning brown with clay stains.
I have attended something at the art center for at least one summer or vacation per year since fourth grade, except for last summer, when I did a five-week intensive dance program instead. But in any case, the teachers know me.
So I arrived about ten minutes early to find one of my former teachers digging in the recycled clay bin and slopping it onto boards to make it dry into clay that's fit for working with instead of just muddy slip. I offered to help because I love getting dirty in this way, and I needed to get my clean clothes flecked with clay already. "You grew a lot," she says.
While doing that I realized that someone who had been with me in the pottery classes I'd attended two years ago was in my class again. We reacquainted ourselves with each other and remembered our jokes. Since we've both been to Israel it was mostly about the messed-up-ness of security and terrorists in airports and trying to drag pottery wheels into the airport. It's probably the best time I've had in an organized class in a while.
I'd really forgotten how much fun it is to go somewhere with the intention of making art, to come with a group of people and get your hands so very dirty. I don't know if anybody else does this, but my friend and I start talking to the clay in the middle of conversations. Like, one minute we're talking about depression and then he says to the mug he's making, "Don't flop over, I'll kill you if you do," and we're talking about television. That doesn't happen without the occasional lunatic talking to random objects.
Today I'll go back and throw a few more pots. Ah, pottery. The most fun I've had in a while.
I have attended something at the art center for at least one summer or vacation per year since fourth grade, except for last summer, when I did a five-week intensive dance program instead. But in any case, the teachers know me.
So I arrived about ten minutes early to find one of my former teachers digging in the recycled clay bin and slopping it onto boards to make it dry into clay that's fit for working with instead of just muddy slip. I offered to help because I love getting dirty in this way, and I needed to get my clean clothes flecked with clay already. "You grew a lot," she says.
While doing that I realized that someone who had been with me in the pottery classes I'd attended two years ago was in my class again. We reacquainted ourselves with each other and remembered our jokes. Since we've both been to Israel it was mostly about the messed-up-ness of security and terrorists in airports and trying to drag pottery wheels into the airport. It's probably the best time I've had in an organized class in a while.
I'd really forgotten how much fun it is to go somewhere with the intention of making art, to come with a group of people and get your hands so very dirty. I don't know if anybody else does this, but my friend and I start talking to the clay in the middle of conversations. Like, one minute we're talking about depression and then he says to the mug he's making, "Don't flop over, I'll kill you if you do," and we're talking about television. That doesn't happen without the occasional lunatic talking to random objects.
Today I'll go back and throw a few more pots. Ah, pottery. The most fun I've had in a while.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Closing Time
Today was the last day of school.
It wasn't that much really, we came to school and our teacher spoke and stuff, embarrassing me and the other girl who's leaving in my class by saying how lovely we were. I got a cork board thing with a bunch of notes from my friends, which I thought was really sweet.
Then she handed out report cards - unfortunately for me, in reverse alphabetical order - and while I waited for mine, I went about saying a few goodbyes. One of my friends who are boys permitted me to hug him in that time, which he hasn't let me do when I tried. I took photos of unsuspecting people and ran up and down the stairs.
I got my report card and was quite happy with it, except for my grade in history, which had a mistake in it and lowered my average by a lot, so I went around for about two hours to find my teacher.
Then I finally found her and just about sorted things out.
After my friends had gotten their grades too, we went downstairs to the kiosk and bought a coke and mentos, then went out to the parking lot. I got my camera out and we exploded the coke (except not really, because it was too small) then jumped on the remains. A second friend who is a boy permitted me to hug him before he left.
Then I went home, put my big cork board down, and went to meet my friend at the bus stop, where we caught a bus to Dizengoff Center. I took her to a great bakery and we bought a baguette, took it back to the Center, ate it, and proceeded to buy shakes at re:bar (mine was mango, pineapple, passion fruit sorbet, and yogurt). We went to "Everything for a Dollar," which does not have everything for a dollar, and I bought a minimini notebook. Then we met up with the rest of our buddies, who were buying movie tickets, and I hugged all of them, including a third friend who is a boy. I had to go home because of my ballet open house.
I don't know what to say about it. It's been a kind of amazing day, and I'm feeling happysad, but kind of more sad. I don't know. This song kind of defines it (not in the sense that I'm in love or anything). I've had it on repeat for the last ten minutes.
I need some quotes. Goodbye.
(Doctor Who title reference again!)
It wasn't that much really, we came to school and our teacher spoke and stuff, embarrassing me and the other girl who's leaving in my class by saying how lovely we were. I got a cork board thing with a bunch of notes from my friends, which I thought was really sweet.
Then she handed out report cards - unfortunately for me, in reverse alphabetical order - and while I waited for mine, I went about saying a few goodbyes. One of my friends who are boys permitted me to hug him in that time, which he hasn't let me do when I tried. I took photos of unsuspecting people and ran up and down the stairs.
I got my report card and was quite happy with it, except for my grade in history, which had a mistake in it and lowered my average by a lot, so I went around for about two hours to find my teacher.
Then I finally found her and just about sorted things out.
After my friends had gotten their grades too, we went downstairs to the kiosk and bought a coke and mentos, then went out to the parking lot. I got my camera out and we exploded the coke (except not really, because it was too small) then jumped on the remains. A second friend who is a boy permitted me to hug him before he left.
Then I went home, put my big cork board down, and went to meet my friend at the bus stop, where we caught a bus to Dizengoff Center. I took her to a great bakery and we bought a baguette, took it back to the Center, ate it, and proceeded to buy shakes at re:bar (mine was mango, pineapple, passion fruit sorbet, and yogurt). We went to "Everything for a Dollar," which does not have everything for a dollar, and I bought a minimini notebook. Then we met up with the rest of our buddies, who were buying movie tickets, and I hugged all of them, including a third friend who is a boy. I had to go home because of my ballet open house.
I don't know what to say about it. It's been a kind of amazing day, and I'm feeling happysad, but kind of more sad. I don't know. This song kind of defines it (not in the sense that I'm in love or anything). I've had it on repeat for the last ten minutes.
I need some quotes. Goodbye.
(Doctor Who title reference again!)
Saturday, June 9, 2012
SURPRISE!
Thursday afternoon saw me rushing to Dizengoff Center to meet my friends, among which was a birthday girl.
We walked around a bit, then another friend, who at that time was at the birthday girl's house, texted each of us in turn. We made our excuses, one by one, except instead of going home we went to her house. Finally, she came back, and we screamed, "SURPRISE!"
Then we played games, ate, danced, and celebrated. It was brilliant.
We walked around a bit, then another friend, who at that time was at the birthday girl's house, texted each of us in turn. We made our excuses, one by one, except instead of going home we went to her house. Finally, she came back, and we screamed, "SURPRISE!"
Then we played games, ate, danced, and celebrated. It was brilliant.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
In Which I am a Five-Year-Old Teenager
Today we had a meitzav, or a statewide test, in math. One of the easier things I've done. I think I got at least a 90, which I like, because normally on math tests I don't get too far over 85 or 90, sometimes less. So that's nice.
And it was my last test here, as a friend of mine took care to inform me afterwards, before I went to buy a bag of chocolate milk (yes, they sell chocolate milk in bag-type things) to rejuvenate my utterly fried brain.
Then, in English class, we were talking about our plans for the summer, specifically so the teacher could correct pronunciation. Obviously she didn't correct mine, but after I finished saying that I was going back to America, seeing my friends, going to some art and writing camp-things, and possibly going to New York, she said that it had been really nice to have me in her class and for everyone to hear an American accent besides hers. She said I'd contributed to the class discussions (which I do think was one of the high points of being here, especially the calling-out part) and that she'd miss me. Then everyone clapped and I just sat there in the back of the class, embarrassed yet elated, tracing the "love" that someone had carved into the desk just for something to do.
Then math class got cancelled, which was brilliant because it chopped an hour and forty-five minutes off my school day and I walked home with some friends, making fun of two of our other buddies who were walking about twenty paces in front of us and couldn't hear a word we were saying. All mockery, and all pretty much that old rhyme, "___ and ___ sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage."
I suppose, deep down, I'm not more than five years old. It's becoming more and more apparent now. Oh well, being five is fun.
And it was my last test here, as a friend of mine took care to inform me afterwards, before I went to buy a bag of chocolate milk (yes, they sell chocolate milk in bag-type things) to rejuvenate my utterly fried brain.
Then, in English class, we were talking about our plans for the summer, specifically so the teacher could correct pronunciation. Obviously she didn't correct mine, but after I finished saying that I was going back to America, seeing my friends, going to some art and writing camp-things, and possibly going to New York, she said that it had been really nice to have me in her class and for everyone to hear an American accent besides hers. She said I'd contributed to the class discussions (which I do think was one of the high points of being here, especially the calling-out part) and that she'd miss me. Then everyone clapped and I just sat there in the back of the class, embarrassed yet elated, tracing the "love" that someone had carved into the desk just for something to do.
Then math class got cancelled, which was brilliant because it chopped an hour and forty-five minutes off my school day and I walked home with some friends, making fun of two of our other buddies who were walking about twenty paces in front of us and couldn't hear a word we were saying. All mockery, and all pretty much that old rhyme, "___ and ___ sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage."
I suppose, deep down, I'm not more than five years old. It's becoming more and more apparent now. Oh well, being five is fun.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Filmin'
In the recess between theater classes today, I got out my camera, snapped some photos, then decided a video would probably be better.
"Why are you filming? So you don't forget?"
"I guess."
"Oh, don't worry about that. You won't forget us if you try. We'll be chasing you in your dreams."
Basically, once people realized I was filming, they flocked around me, trying to get in the video. It ended up being about twenty minutes long, and it would have been longer if the battery hadn't died. And I've promised to bring a full battery tomorrow and next Tuesday. We'll see how this turns out...
"Why are you filming? So you don't forget?"
"I guess."
"Oh, don't worry about that. You won't forget us if you try. We'll be chasing you in your dreams."
Basically, once people realized I was filming, they flocked around me, trying to get in the video. It ended up being about twenty minutes long, and it would have been longer if the battery hadn't died. And I've promised to bring a full battery tomorrow and next Tuesday. We'll see how this turns out...
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Beit Midrash
Okay, I went to this thing.
It's called Beit Midrash, which anyone who read the title would probably have guessed.
Now, a Beit Midrash is kind of where orthodox people go to study the Torah. So no, I did not go there. But at school this evening there was an event on Hillel, who was a rabbi a very, very long time ago. (I'm not sure quite precisely when - in the time of the first Temple, if that's any help.) So I decided to go, because my parents said I should, wondering if this was a really, really bad decision, and studied a few of the things he said and stuff he did, part of which we'd already done in Israeli Heritage class. It was obviously quite boring (my hand was thoroughly written and drawn-on by the end), but I don't believe that the decision to go was the worst I ever made. Plus, we had some great cakes after it. That was brilliant and it almost made up for the boringness.
A conversation with a friend from another class:
"Was yours boring too?"
"Oh yes. My parents said I should go because I'll never have this ever again. So I went, even though I was sick this morning."
"Evil."
"I suppose. But it's passed, and I'm not dead."
"It's passed, there's nothing you can do about it, and you're still alive."
"Precisely what I tell myself after every day."
"After every day?"
"Well, you know, being around you people, it's hard not to."
"Why does everyone say that?"
"You do understand the meaning of sarcasm, don't you?"
"Well...takes a bit to sink in...but yeah..."
It's called Beit Midrash, which anyone who read the title would probably have guessed.
Now, a Beit Midrash is kind of where orthodox people go to study the Torah. So no, I did not go there. But at school this evening there was an event on Hillel, who was a rabbi a very, very long time ago. (I'm not sure quite precisely when - in the time of the first Temple, if that's any help.) So I decided to go, because my parents said I should, wondering if this was a really, really bad decision, and studied a few of the things he said and stuff he did, part of which we'd already done in Israeli Heritage class. It was obviously quite boring (my hand was thoroughly written and drawn-on by the end), but I don't believe that the decision to go was the worst I ever made. Plus, we had some great cakes after it. That was brilliant and it almost made up for the boringness.
A conversation with a friend from another class:
"Was yours boring too?"
"Oh yes. My parents said I should go because I'll never have this ever again. So I went, even though I was sick this morning."
"Evil."
"I suppose. But it's passed, and I'm not dead."
"It's passed, there's nothing you can do about it, and you're still alive."
"Precisely what I tell myself after every day."
"After every day?"
"Well, you know, being around you people, it's hard not to."
"Why does everyone say that?"
"You do understand the meaning of sarcasm, don't you?"
"Well...takes a bit to sink in...but yeah..."
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Wednesday
Normally I hate Wednesdays. They're the longest school days of the week - 8:45-2:45 - and it's annoying, even though in America I was at school for longer each day. The main reason of my dislike of Wednesdays is that I have three double classes - three classes of ninety minutes each, plus a forty-five minute class. It's tedious.
However, today seemed to be more okay than usual. I mean, obviously Grammar class was boring as ever, but we always have recess between the two classes and the teacher generally arrives at least ten minutes late for the second class. Israeli Heritage is an alright class anyway, and it was forty-five minutes. Besides which, it was quite an interesting conversation-class to listen to (sometimes I like listening to debates more than participating in them).
Then came English.
Now, obviously I'll be the first of my class to say that English is awesome, for obvious reasons. It's nice to have an opportunity to speak English to a teacher because you have to. Although I suppose the thing I like best is that I can make a total mess of the languages and every person in the room will understand. Unless I use really big words, like sesquipedalian. Which is an awesome word which means "a person fond of long words."
But today's first English class was one of the awesomest ones ever. Why? Because there was no class. Later (in the second class) we found out that our teacher had been with a student in the library and had forgotten entirely that she was supposed to teach our first class (a variation of this has happened before). I had hilarious conversations with my friends who are boys (NOT boyfriends, just to be clear, and I am not a polyandrist). Over the course of these conversations I realized that (1) I have had more ease in making friends with boys here than girls and (2) my friends who are boys have exceedingly perverted views of the world. I also swore a few times, at which they kind of stared at me for a few moments before going back to their own (and rather more heavily-loaded with profanity) points to make.
In the second class, the teacher came in, which was a sad end to our hilarity, because we had to complete a quiz. It was okay in the end, though.
After that we had math, which is usually the boringest of borings. (And yes, I know "boringest" is not a word!) But today another of my friends who are boys sat next to me. He's a math genius, so half of the lesson was us sniggering in the back of the class, laughing at the "leaning tower of Pisa"s we'd made by sticking our pens in holes in the desk (apparently, someone in a class before us was really, really bored and in possession of something sharp), and the other half was him answering questions intelligently and going through the class/homework faster than anyone else.
It was a good day. At least until I re-injured my back in ballet class (I injured it on Sunday and I thought it had healed). What will I tell the PE teacher tomorrow? I had to sit out last class too...sigh...
However, today seemed to be more okay than usual. I mean, obviously Grammar class was boring as ever, but we always have recess between the two classes and the teacher generally arrives at least ten minutes late for the second class. Israeli Heritage is an alright class anyway, and it was forty-five minutes. Besides which, it was quite an interesting conversation-class to listen to (sometimes I like listening to debates more than participating in them).
Then came English.
Now, obviously I'll be the first of my class to say that English is awesome, for obvious reasons. It's nice to have an opportunity to speak English to a teacher because you have to. Although I suppose the thing I like best is that I can make a total mess of the languages and every person in the room will understand. Unless I use really big words, like sesquipedalian. Which is an awesome word which means "a person fond of long words."
But today's first English class was one of the awesomest ones ever. Why? Because there was no class. Later (in the second class) we found out that our teacher had been with a student in the library and had forgotten entirely that she was supposed to teach our first class (a variation of this has happened before). I had hilarious conversations with my friends who are boys (NOT boyfriends, just to be clear, and I am not a polyandrist). Over the course of these conversations I realized that (1) I have had more ease in making friends with boys here than girls and (2) my friends who are boys have exceedingly perverted views of the world. I also swore a few times, at which they kind of stared at me for a few moments before going back to their own (and rather more heavily-loaded with profanity) points to make.
In the second class, the teacher came in, which was a sad end to our hilarity, because we had to complete a quiz. It was okay in the end, though.
After that we had math, which is usually the boringest of borings. (And yes, I know "boringest" is not a word!) But today another of my friends who are boys sat next to me. He's a math genius, so half of the lesson was us sniggering in the back of the class, laughing at the "leaning tower of Pisa"s we'd made by sticking our pens in holes in the desk (apparently, someone in a class before us was really, really bored and in possession of something sharp), and the other half was him answering questions intelligently and going through the class/homework faster than anyone else.
It was a good day. At least until I re-injured my back in ballet class (I injured it on Sunday and I thought it had healed). What will I tell the PE teacher tomorrow? I had to sit out last class too...sigh...
Monday, April 23, 2012
Happy Birthday!
Okay, this post won't be long, as I've been working on part of the birthday present all afternoon and as such will likely fail my Israeli geography test tomorrow, but I don't care. And I said I'd do this blog post so I shall.
Today, the twenty-third of April, is my friend Amanda's birthday. She has been one of my best friends for over four years now. So this is for her.
Amanda, I hope the unfortunate placement of your birthday this year - the first day back at school after vacation - did not stop you from enjoying it. And I hope you don't care that the numbers are changing, because the difference between today and yesterday is just the same as the difference between yesterday and Saturday. Numbers are numbers and they only matter if you decide they do.
Thanks so much for sticking with me all this time. We do annoy each other sometimes, but so do the best of friends, and I think we've turned out for the better.
I miss you, and happy birthday.
Today, the twenty-third of April, is my friend Amanda's birthday. She has been one of my best friends for over four years now. So this is for her.
Amanda, I hope the unfortunate placement of your birthday this year - the first day back at school after vacation - did not stop you from enjoying it. And I hope you don't care that the numbers are changing, because the difference between today and yesterday is just the same as the difference between yesterday and Saturday. Numbers are numbers and they only matter if you decide they do.
Thanks so much for sticking with me all this time. We do annoy each other sometimes, but so do the best of friends, and I think we've turned out for the better.
I miss you, and happy birthday.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Open Class
Today in Theater we had an open class day. That means that all the other eighth graders came to watch us, two classes at a time.
In first period we had our first open class, which was an iffy performance. We were all a bit embarrassed and we hadn't really gotten into it yet. But after that show we had almost two hours to do nothing - they didn't even make us go back to class. We got into heated conversations, so loud that we were yelling, and went sort of crazy. Everyone was particularly surprised at me, because it was the first time I really showed off my loudness when I'm hyper. I'm actually still a bit hoarse from that. We got so utterly hyper that we went into various displays of randomness, and being that it was theater and we're all psychos, it got to be handstands and cartwheels and splits and imitations of drunkards. Someone summarized The Butterfly Effect, which is a movie, except he didn't make it short - it took 45 minutes for us to get through the random plot points and for him to impress upon us the creepiness, violence, and just wrongness of much of the movie. One girl did my makeup, as she'd done for most of the girls in the class before the first show. The whole day, from 8 to 1, I was barefoot - no shoes, no socks.
At 11:30 we had our second "show," which was considerably better than the first one, and much more fun. By then I wasn't embarrassed in the least, not anymore. They're just people, same as us. After our last show, which was by far the best, we all congratulated each other. I skipped around the now-empty studio and drank out of the giant water bottle that was being passed around. We had spent the whole day performing and hanging around with the psycho class. We're all mad, but all the best people are.
In first period we had our first open class, which was an iffy performance. We were all a bit embarrassed and we hadn't really gotten into it yet. But after that show we had almost two hours to do nothing - they didn't even make us go back to class. We got into heated conversations, so loud that we were yelling, and went sort of crazy. Everyone was particularly surprised at me, because it was the first time I really showed off my loudness when I'm hyper. I'm actually still a bit hoarse from that. We got so utterly hyper that we went into various displays of randomness, and being that it was theater and we're all psychos, it got to be handstands and cartwheels and splits and imitations of drunkards. Someone summarized The Butterfly Effect, which is a movie, except he didn't make it short - it took 45 minutes for us to get through the random plot points and for him to impress upon us the creepiness, violence, and just wrongness of much of the movie. One girl did my makeup, as she'd done for most of the girls in the class before the first show. The whole day, from 8 to 1, I was barefoot - no shoes, no socks.
At 11:30 we had our second "show," which was considerably better than the first one, and much more fun. By then I wasn't embarrassed in the least, not anymore. They're just people, same as us. After our last show, which was by far the best, we all congratulated each other. I skipped around the now-empty studio and drank out of the giant water bottle that was being passed around. We had spent the whole day performing and hanging around with the psycho class. We're all mad, but all the best people are.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Faults
Yesterday, on the bus to Hamlet, we decided that theater class is where all the freaks are, all the psychos. I'm not sure if that's precisely true, but we do have some of the crazier people.
So we were trying to figure out what each of our psychological faults are.
"I'm hyperactive," said one boy.
"You're a drama queen," someone said to a girl.
"I'm hyperactive, I have concentration problems, and I am dyslexic," said another boy.
"And me?" I asked. "What's my psychological fault?"
"You?" they said. "You're American."
Well then.
So we were trying to figure out what each of our psychological faults are.
"I'm hyperactive," said one boy.
"You're a drama queen," someone said to a girl.
"I'm hyperactive, I have concentration problems, and I am dyslexic," said another boy.
"And me?" I asked. "What's my psychological fault?"
"You?" they said. "You're American."
Well then.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Crazy Home Thoughts
Yesterday I was watching Wizard Rock, a song that I really do love. It's about, well, Wizard Rock, which is a music genre about Harry Potter. It's a good song anyway, but it's about Harry Potter so...it's awesome. It's also about depression a bit, which, well, is okay.
But what I was going to say is that listening to this song made me really sad, not just because Potter is "over" but also because my friend would always play it on her iPhone and we would sing it. We used it to annoy our cabin mates on a school trip - they ended up shooing me onto the porch when we had to do written work because I was the louder one of us.
And that made me wonder: how will it be when I get home? Will I look at Doctor Who and Hunger Games and be really sad because it reminds me of the days here? I don't know, but I can't help thinking that after this I won't have a home. It's scary, not knowing where you belong or if you should be here at all.
But what I was going to say is that listening to this song made me really sad, not just because Potter is "over" but also because my friend would always play it on her iPhone and we would sing it. We used it to annoy our cabin mates on a school trip - they ended up shooing me onto the porch when we had to do written work because I was the louder one of us.
And that made me wonder: how will it be when I get home? Will I look at Doctor Who and Hunger Games and be really sad because it reminds me of the days here? I don't know, but I can't help thinking that after this I won't have a home. It's scary, not knowing where you belong or if you should be here at all.
The Terrible Storm
Now, I'm not going to say that there weren't high winds and lots of rain in most of the country, but some of it has been overplayed to my Bostonian mind.
There were three centimeters of snow! *gasp* I know! Three centimeters! Wow! Amazing!
Now, you must understand that I practically laughed aloud when I heard the radio announcers saying in very serious voices that there had been "a lot of snow" and they had shut down streets and things...for three centimeters. In Boston, we don't even have a late start for school if there is under, what, six inches of snow? And that's about fifteen centimeters. Five times as much.
So no, Israelis, this snow does not excite me. Last year our total snowfall accumulated into meters. Note the absence of the prefix.
There were three centimeters of snow! *gasp* I know! Three centimeters! Wow! Amazing!
Now, you must understand that I practically laughed aloud when I heard the radio announcers saying in very serious voices that there had been "a lot of snow" and they had shut down streets and things...for three centimeters. In Boston, we don't even have a late start for school if there is under, what, six inches of snow? And that's about fifteen centimeters. Five times as much.
So no, Israelis, this snow does not excite me. Last year our total snowfall accumulated into meters. Note the absence of the prefix.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)