"Transitional" "Objects"

I'm going to digress from my usual bouts of ranting and complaining to talk about something else important in my life. This is not to say that I have nothing to complain about. I am still waiting for my Hebrew University student ID card-- very reminiscent of the ATM card incident that inspired the title of this blog. And I failed my driving test for driving too far on the right when I was positive they would tell me the opposite (considering the tester himself told me to move farther to the right at least once). But that's for another time.

The picture above is of my new cousin Yonatan who is just a few days old. I didn't even know his mom was expecting, so it was a great surprise. I now have nine "little cousins." The moms of these kids are sisters, and they are my cousins. I have always treated the kids like spoiled nieces and nephews. I have also given them what I feel is the most important gift-- a spotty dog of their own. Each one was carefully selected shortly after the kid was born. I usually felt it was important to "meet the dog in person" first, but since I won't be seeing Yonatan for awhile I carefully reviewed several different spotty dogs online and chose this nice one with a red bandanna to be shipped to Boston.

This is my Spotty.

I have had Spotty since I was seven years old. He has survived years of physical abuse from two older siblings and undergone extensive amounts of wear and tear from the many adventures he has been on. Spotty is an avid traveler, used to go bungee jumping off the top of the staircase at home in Newton, and frequently assists me in the kitchen. When I was little, among other things, like threatening to put an orange in him so he would be confiscated at customs on our first trip to Israel, my siblings always taunted me that one day I would grow up and move onto other things. I was told that Spotty was a "transitional" "object." Other terms used for this were "over-personified pillow" and "stuffed piece of cloth." I don't know too many "pieces of cloth" with a social life as active as Spotty always had, whether it was playdates with Gila's Tammy, Leora's Honey Nut, or officiating the wedding between Pauline's Jenna and Spotty the Plain... my special dalmatian always kept very busy.

In an article I was reading for school last week I read about Donald Winnicot. He coined the term "transitional object." You can read about his theories here. I agree with most of what he says, except for the timing of how long a transitional object is needed.

Yup, that's right. Spotty not only came with me to Maryland, he graduated too. And as you can see from the picture above, Spotty made aliyah too. One of the first things my brother said to me when I got off the plane was along the lines of "I can't believe Spotty made aliyah. This is incredible, and he brought Rebecca with him too." Well, aliyah is a transition too. So why shouldn't I have a "transitional object" with me for this too? Lucky for both of us we have a roommate who has Doggie, a perfect friend for Spotty.

I could go on about this for awhile, but if those reading this know me at all then I doubt I really have to. Last Spring I babysat for a little boy who at the time was very attached to his blue shovel. His mom commented that it seemed like his transitional object. I asked her if he had any special stuffed animals. She said no, they hadn't found one they liked yet. I responded that one does not choose a transitional object, the transitional object (I use the word object for lack of a better term) chooses you. When I was at the store buying Spotty I really wanted this cat but for whatever reason my mom said no, and I skeptically selected Spotty instead. I think the cat thing has been made up for in Harriet the Spy, but that's a separate issue.

I don't necessarily think that all the Spotty dogs I got for my cousins will be their transitional objects. Some of the kids are more attached to their dogs than others. Eitan, who is now 5, has another bright yellow dog with colorful spots that he also calls Spotty. When I come to their house (Aharon, Adina, and Eitan) they immediately gather their Spotty dogs to play with mine. In the morning they creep into my room, take Spotty from my bed, and when I go downstairs later I see the dogs congregated around a bunch of cereal bowls on the floor. The kids know to be extra gentle with my Spotty dog. It's really sweet. And it's amazing that if I put out a bunch of my stuffed animals, they're just as excited about picking up Spotty as they are about one of my "newer and shinier" furry friends, such as Jack. Eitan always likes to feed Jack cottage cheese. Not sure why the cottage cheese is significant. Here's a picture of Eitan taking Spotty for a ride on his bike, and a picture of Spotty tucked into a mini-bed at the foot of Eitan's bed.



I wish Yonatan a long and happy life with his new spotty dog. He should stay close to him as long as he needs him for... whether it be to hold during a scary doctors appointment (my Spotty was in the room when I had minor surgery several years ago), to help him during a test (Spotty often accompanied me to final exams), or to tell secrets too (my roommates wonder why they never get to hear anything good). I wrote to Yonatan's mom that I hope he enjoys his spotty dog until Yonatan isn't so little anymore and his spotty dog isn't so white anymore. I'm not around so much to teach him the ropes, but I'm sure the other cousins will help out. I know his older sister Devorah already showed him her spotty that I gave her almost four years ago. Judging from the picture above, I say they're going to do very well together.

Shaarei Tefillah Celebrates 25 Years

It is no secret that I'm a huge fan of my shul. Tomorrow night there is a dinner to celebrate the shul's 25th anniversary. Last night an old Shaarei couple in Jerusalem had some members over to celebrate from here. Today I enjoyed celebrating the bat mitzvah of twins girls from a former Shaarei family. I had the pleasure of sitting with another family that made aliyah and three girls here for the year. For the dinner journal, members my age were asked to write about their memories of the shul. My year was the first year of "Shaarei babies." I never got confirmation that what I wrote was submitted in time for the journal, but here it is for all of you.
_____________________________

My first memories of Shaarei Tefillah are of shabbat morning groups in what was probably a storage closet in the church in Newton Centre. There weren't many of us so it really didn't matter to us. Then we moved to Morseland Avenue. I have vague memories of the new shul being under construction while we davenned in the basement. It was close quarters but again it was the perfect size for our still small congregation. Then the new shul was ready. I was four years old and dressed as Curious George for Purim. I don't know if there were no chairs for logistical reasons or if there just weren't chairs yet. The place seemed huge to me. Shabbat morning groups started meeting in the basement. Everyone, grades 1 through 6, davenned together in one room with high school leaders. We each took turns leading the different tefilot. It is hard to believe that now the main shul is full to capacity every week. Many parents of friends I grew up with are now grandparents, my friends are becoming parents, and the many kids I used to babysit for are now babysitters themselves or applying to college.

At Shaarei, like I'm sure any other shul, members always talk about the pride they take in the community's children. I am blessed to say that the children of Shaarei Tefillah take pride in the shul as well. In my Jewish Studies classes in college I would check the syllabus for books by Shaarei members, or would smile to myself as I quoted one in a research paper. A few weeks ago I was visiting a former “Shaarei kid” and her husband in California and we were bemoaning how much we miss the intellectualism we experienced in shul all our lives. We miss the shabbat drashot that connect Medieval biological studies to the week's Torah portion, something from Greek literature to hilchot shabbat, or some other twisted and unexpected series of sources. “Oh, you go to THAT shul in Newton. I know all about THAT one.” said my Jewish Philosophy professor in college.

It's been a privilege growing up with a shul and community that empowers all its members, from the five year old leading anim zmirotˆto the teenager serving as gabbai sheni to the adult members from all different professions getting the chance to give a shiur and face the challenges of the linguists, historians, rabbis, or the surprisingly brilliant (to visitors at least) doctor who happens to know that particular section of Talmud verbatim. But it's always all in good fun.

The kids who grew up in Shaarei Tefillah will be forever benefiting from the environment they experienced in the shul, and those of us who have since left Newton will seek out similar communities to raise our families in. And hey, if we can't find one we'll just have to start our own. It would be in the spirit of Shaarei Tefillah after all.

Grad School, Elections, and other adventures of the past few weeks

I must start this blog entry, as promised, by mocking another friend's blog. Not that I find anything wrong about the blog. This can be a spoof, if you will.

The other day in my usual half asleep obstacle course that is getting ready for school I was faced with a critical decision. My lighter jeans or darker jeans? As someone who always cares how she's presented to the world, I quickly pulled out my phone and SMSed 50 of my closest friends and asked their opinion. Clearly I should just sign up for Twitter so frequent issues like this can be handled more easily. No, I did not care what else they could be doing at 7am. This was important. I got a response right away. It was the first cousin of the cashier I met while buying a train ticket in the US. It's not important why we're in touch with each other. He wrote darker jeans, so I did. Fifteen minutes later I was on the bus to school. The first person I saw on the bus got very excited when she saw me and said "You wear jeans? I love jeans! You should join me on this exciting project that has to do with clicky pencils. See, there's a business opportunity at every turn. You just have to be prepared, and social networking can make all the difference.

Okay, now that I've written a ridiculous story of which not one bit of it is true (though I did wear jeans to school the other day) just to make a point (I think), on to more important things...

School has begun! And it did so on time! Thanks to a bunch of politicians getting together and making useful negotiations, the universities in this country received enough funds to open their doors. I was relatively optimistic that it would work out, but considering my general optimism has been severely reduced since I moved here I was prepared for the worst. So on November 3rd, I began graduate school at Hebrew University.

So far so good. I can understand my professors for the most part, and I'm learning a lot of transliterated words that sound pretty ridiculous ("flashbackim" being one of my favorites). I'm just not sure Americans can pull off saying these words in an Israeli accent. I try to write as much down as I can. Not that I'm being told anything I haven't heard before. However since my entire grade relies on one paper or test at the end of the semester, I suppose I should keep track of what we talk about. I write my notes in a mix of Hebrew and English. If I can get the Hebrew words down on paper, I do. Or even if I just catch a phrase. Really my challenge is to pick up on the terminology in Hebrew. Though since it's mostly transliterated words, I just have to figure out how to spell them! My notes are an interesting mix of Hebrew and English. In every class there's someone sitting nearby staring over my shoulder. It's both amusing and annoying. Yeah, I know English, so instead of staring maybe cut a deal with me that you'll explain the terminology and I'll try to explain the reading. That's right-- almost all the reading is in English. I tried reading some of the Hebrew stuff... one article with more success than the other. For every class when my classmates spent up to ten minutes bemoaning the fact that they would have to read so much in English I sat back and celebrating the one thing that wouldn't be a challenge for me.

Who are my classmates? In my particular program it's all married women who have kids or are about to. And there's one guy. Still don't know his story because he kindly keeps quiet. There's a mix of religious and non-religious women, but I only know of one or two others that is not married. Makes sense given the nature of the program, but it definitely adds to my feeling of being the minority. Not that I suddenly wish that at age 24 I was married with kids and felt a desperate need to bring them up as examples for every situation. Or maybe they're talking about their own kids. They speak so quickly I have no idea. I'm just dreading the day my teacher turns to me and says "You've been quiet, what do you think?" While I've considered telling all my teachers right out that Hebrew isn't my first language, I'm trying to let them know in more subtle ways. Because I am in the administration track of my program I am in a few classes with a greater variety of students. Variety meaning there are multiple guys, but also women who may be married but do things outside the education field (like working for non-profit organizations). While the material of those classes is less than thrilling, it's more interesting to sit through. I am taking a class called Introduction to Trauma which in theory will be counted towards my program. My classmates are all involved in superly cool things like working in prisons and shelters and runaway homes and clinics. Maybe one of them can get me a job one day, or at least introduce me to other cool people.

I have had two weeks of school. The first week I tried to blend in. I wore what I thought were nondescript clothes. The second week I wanted to be very obviously American so I wore my UMD sweatpants. It's just interesting what makes me so... I guess WEIRD to the people I meet. "What's your first degree in?" "History" "What?" "History" "So what are you doing here?" "Learning to work with young children" "That's a dramatic change in fields." Unfortunately Israelis don't really get the concept of a liberal arts education. I can involve myself in the education field AND educate myself in worldy issues. Crazy, I know. The History geek in me is bigger than I thought. I'll get to that in a second. My other experience was with my homework partner for statistics class. Oh statistics... I told my sister (who just got a PhD in the field) that maybe statistics is more interesting in English, and she said she always assumed it was more interesting in Chinese. Anyway, my partner is a Russian immigrant who made aliyah as a kid. I met her on my first day and ran into her on my second day. She invited me to hang out with her on the grass and offered me a candy bar. This made me happy for lots of reasons. I'm interested in how my social integration into an Israeli school will work out. She asked me how I knew Hebrew, and I said I was taught it since I was 3. She assumed I had Israeli parents or something and I said no, I went to a religious school. She looked down. "But you're wearing pants, you're religious?" I responded that I don't like skirts. She looked confused. "I don't see religious girls who wear pants." Throughout the conversation she occasionally came back to this point. I told her about when I started UMD and was thinking that if people were really going to label me as non-religious that maybe I would decide to always wear skirts. Of course this didn't happen, for so many reasons, and I guess going to minyan every day was a fair indicator that I'm serious about what I do. I just wonder how my other classmates react if they knew that this crazy American with a BA in History who's trying to do an MA in Social Work in Hebrew just one year after arriving in the country is also religious but wears pants. So they think I'm strange. I think they're all really strange too. I told my roommates that I feel like the real Harriet the Spy (from the books) sometimes in class when I don't get what's going on so instead I look around and jump to fun and interesting conclusions about the lives of everyone there.

Me as the History geek. Deep down inside a part of me just wants to go onto an MA in History and somehow come up with the stamina and intellectual whatever to delve into research and teaching for the rest of my life. Really can't see that happening, but in the meantime I am already missing what I switched majors for at UMD. One of my classes is called "Leadership in Education." The professor said that most of the material is History-related and that we will be taking what we learn and applying it to being leaders in education. My face lit up. History, yay! Humanities! I also started reading Barbara Tuchman's "Practicing History" in between classes. I finished the novel I was reading the first week. My mom was always trying to get me to read this book so obviously I didn't for awhile. Then I found it in the house in September and opened it up. It's awesome, highly recommended. It increases the number of weird looks I get, but gives me an important fix. I also wandered through the History section of the campus library. I could have done something practical like check out what Education and Social Work materials they have, but I couldn't resist. Maybe one day in like forty years I can be one of those old people taking history courses at a nearby university.

Elections. I don't know much about politics, but I am truly amazed at my friends' reactions towards Obama's victory in the US. Never saw much hope and enthusiasm among my peers like that. Here in Jerusalem we're also experiencing an exciting period of political change. Nir Barkat, a secular businessman, is going to be the next major of Jerusalem. His victory depended as much as his own supports coming out to vote as it did on the ultra orthodox staying home and not voting for his opponent (who posed a striking resemblance to Santa Claus). Jerusalem is a mess and a lot has to do with too much attention being given to some things and not enough attention to others. Nir Barkat's term will be five years. While I hope that by the end of the term I have been out of Jerusalem for awhile, what he accomplishes in this city is very important to me. Whether it be creating more affordable housing or fixing cracks in the sidewalks. It is so important for Jerusalem to live up to its potential.

And last but not least, though there are probably so many anecdotes I have to share that I can't remember at the moment... Speaking of Jerusalem, I've been doing a lot of reading about it. In Tanach that is. Probably in about an hour or so I will be reading the last chapter of Malachi thereby completing all of Neviim. About a year ago I set out to complete the Nach Yomi project, learning one chapter of Neviim/Ketuvim every day until I complete it. Most of the time it turned into seven chapters every shabbat, but for the most part I kept up. Many things inspired me to do this. Tanach is where it all begins. It's our first account of Jewish history. Last week we read Parashat Lech Lecha in which Avraham leaves his home and family to come to Israel (clearly something I could relate to this year-- more than ever). I'll probably write another blog post about this after shabbat because I think it's deserving of it's own space, but I am excited to share this accomplishment with everyone. Tomorrow I will start Tehilim, and in a year or so I will have finished Ketuvim as well. When I was at HaRova for the year I read through the Chumash, so when I finish Ketuvim I will have read every single word of the Tanach. As I said the rest of my thoughts will be in a future blog post. I didn't even get to write about celebrating various friends going into the army. Some are friends I grew up with, others are ones I met here. I'm so proud of all of them. But shabbat is creeping up on me, and I have to get to Raphi's house!

It was simpler when there were just snow days

A lot of people have asked me about the upcoming school year in general, and about my program in particular, so here it goes...

I thought I was in good shape when I applied for a school year after two years of strikes, one led by the students and the other led by tenured professors. This year the associate professors were threatening to strike, but I wasn't so worried about that effecting me. What the university students of Israel are currently faced with is far worth than any of those things.

A couple weeks ago a letter was sent out to the students (well, some students, apparently I'm not important enough) saying that due to issues with the Ministry of Finance the universities are not getting enough money, and are collectively refusing to open this year. Negotiations are currently underway. Classes are due to start in a week. A week after that, if no settlement has been reached, the universities are shutting their doors.

I can't imagine that happening. Then again, this country hasn't been known to take education seriously. Last year while university students waited for their professors to come back to work thousands of high school students in Jerusalem wandered around aimlessly waiting for their teachers to end their strike. As someone going into education, I try to let it inspire me to fight for change, but sometimes it can be downright discouraging. It's hard to do much when the program to qualify me can't even start. What's a country without its flagship universities? When the announcement was first made I started saying that it was destroying my Zionism. Maybe that's a bit harsh, but it will be hard being proud of a country that lets its universities close their doors. I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, I now have a better sense of what my program is, what I will enjoy about it, and the problems I have already had. Within the School of Social Work and Social Welfare there is a group of programs named of this guy Joseph Schwartz. I am in the Graduate Program for Early Childhood Studies. There is also one about non-profit organizations and a new program specializing in philanthropy. The general goal is to focus on the specific issues within these fields. My program combines classes from the School of Social Work and the School of Education.

Within my program, there are two tracks. It took me months to understand the differences between them. Even when I understood the words in the titles it wasn't clear, and no one seemed able to give me a clear answer. Here's the scoop: one focuses n development and one on administration. I am in the administration track. There are 9 people in my track and 20 in the other. Apparently there are people in my track who wanted to be in the other but even with the increased enrollment, they couldn't accommodate everyone. With just 9 people I wonder how many actually want to be there. I wish I was in the development track, though it might be my fault I'm not. I have a vague memory of which box I checked off on the application, but since I didn't hear anything since then I didn't think I was actually in a specific track. When I started the arduous task of signing up for classes, I saw some specified for each tracks but thought maybe this was something that happened in the second year. Then I got the news that I was in the administration track, and it should have been written on the acceptance letter I got months ago. However my letter came from the Department of Overseas Students and not directly from my program which writes in the track. So I had no idea.

Briefly, the development track trains students to work one on one as advisors to people working directly with young children. The administration one focuses on general, well, administration of organizations serving young children. I'm not what to think of, for lack of a better term, this mix up. My only concern is it seems like the other group gets more fieldwork, and one reason I chose the program was for it's combination of classtime and fieldwork. On the other hand, this means I can create my own fieldwork experiences. It even seems like I can get support from my professors if I sort of create my own project.

I'm strangely optimistic about my situation with the program. In either track I would enjoy some classes and detest others. And administration classes could be really useful for me considering I am terribly unqualified at many of the things they will in theory teach me. And as my brother put it, it could make me more marketable. I'm not worried that I will be denied a job because of which track of the program I was in.

In either case, school has to start for any of this to happen. I'm hopeful, but not holding my breath. As the title says, it was simpler when there were just snow days.

And I complain I have no friends in this country...

Yesterday afternoon I decided I was in desperate need of a nap. Harriet the Spy had woken me up every hour on the hour the night before, and I spent the morning at three playgrounds with an active 1 year old who enjoyed diving head first off of everything. I knew it would be a short nap because I was anxiously awaiting the return of my two roommates, due in throughout the following couple hours.

My phone rang. The caller ID read "Fischers." I thought "Cool, maybe the Fischers are inviting me for shabbat or to come over for a playdate." I answered the phone and heard a little voice say "Hi Rebecca!" It was Ruchama Fischer. She is seven years old. Actually maybe "little voice" isn't really a good description for a kid like Ruchama. Try "teenager with an attitude stuck in a little girl's body" kind of voice. We exchanged pleasantries and I waited for her to say something like "here's my mom," assuming that her mom wanted to call me but she asked to dial the number. I guessed incorrectly.

For the next 20 minutes or so Ruchama and I caught up on the last few weeks of our lives. We talked about our trips to the US, people we both know, and how we feel about brothers. After the 20 minutes I felt I had exhausted my list of things to discuss with a second grader, though it was obvious that she could have gone on forever.

Ruchama is a great kid, and a good sport especially when it comes to her little brothers. She knows that her four year old brother Raphi is my bestest friend, and is usually patient about sharing my time with him when I come to visit. In College Park when I would stop by she would answer the door and say "One second, I'll get Raphi." This was when Ruchama was 5 and Raphi was not even 2.

I guess she just needed someone to talk to, someone to listen to her complain about the stressful life of a seven year old. My favorite line was "I hate my brothers. I want a sister. All they do is beat me up, but I know Karate and they don't!"

Eventually I politely told her that I had to go, and we agreed that I will come for a shabbat as soon as I can. The phonecall totally made my day. There is no other way to say it.

"A friend in every port"

This phrase was said to me repeatedly throughout my trip to the US and the couple of weeks following it. It clearly started with my mom but has extended to siblings, friends, and even parents of friends. Okay, it's true, to some extent. I visited five major cities on my trip and had friends to see everywhere I went. In LA I had the luxury of leisurely meals to catch up and in Maryland it was a crazy series of 5-30 minute blocks of time... and I treasured every minute of them.

So I said to my brother, it's interesting that our grandmother keeps asking me whether our sister is making friends in her new home in DC when she never once expressed the same interest about my life in Israel. "You have a friend in every port. They never worry." Right. My sister is just as industrious as I am in situations like this. Before her move she contacted everyone she knew in DC, including good friends or nice people she met once and figured she'd wind up becoming better friends with upon arrival in DC. Or maybe they would know the kind of people she could be friends with. Whichever. While it's tough to start out anywhere, I am not about to worry. Besides, she gets to hang out with all of my best friends from college-- can't be that bad :-). (Hey, if I have to hang out with 30-year-olds she should have to hang out with 24-year-olds. It's only fair.)

I've written a lot about the challenge of making new friends and holding onto old friends. And I say that I feel a little guilty saying to a new friend in Israel who asks if I had fun in the US, "Well sure, I have so many friends there." "And what's it like being back?" Um, yeah.

It bothers me that I'm not as hopelessly optimistic as I used to be. And it's really too bad that so few people here realize that change. I returned to Israel thinking that okay, I was going to be alone in the apartment for three weeks so that already can't be fun, a lot of people are away, and in general it's going to be tough reconnecting with people. I didn't used to worry about such "trivial" things.

This past week has been so much fun. Not necessarily the hours spent filling garbage bags with clutter and unrecognizable food remains from the fridge. And thanks to a terribly anxious and upset cat I haven't had a good night's sleep since I returned. But besides that... There's been smoothie making, a lunchtime visit, a bar outing, catch playing, shabbat and yom tov meals, movie watching, and getting kicked out of a playground by the cops. There was also a quick playdate with Ben Zion who, though he hasn't seen me in awhile, had his face glued to his third floor window facing Keren HaYesod waiting for me to arrive. He had tears in his eyes when it was time for me to leave. Strangely most of those events (not the playdate) happened after 10pm. But all the better. I would spend a day moping around the apartment getting things done, be all ready to try to fall asleep, and suddenly I'd be wandering down Emek Refaim.

"You mean... you realize you have friends?" half-taunted a friend who just left my apartment. Well, YEAH. But I knew that. It's just the happy feeling that amidst my roommate-less loneliness and anxiety leading up to a grad school program that due to another strike might not start on time, I'm having a good time.

Am I happy? To be continued at the next 1am playground outing. Don't you hate when other people might be right? You just want to kick them. Or hug them. Whatever.

Except when they aren't right. Is there really a formula for why someone is your friend and how someone remains your friend? Can I scientifically look at the friends I made in the past twenty four years and figure out how and why in another twenty four years I'll be as close to them as I am now? It's not like I keep their business cards in my wallet. They aren't even all on facebook.

My whirlwind trips around the US are like a rollercoaster. It's a thrill ride. Every moment is exciting. I never know who I'll run into or what incredible conversation I'll have. The wild twists and turns can also be scary and gut wrenching. It's tough saying goodbye, and realizing that I have absolutely no idea when I'll see the person next. But rollercoasters are still fun. You keep going and going until it makes you sick. It's just a wonderful kind of sick. Does that metaphor work? I love the running around, even when it makes me sad. And will I go back to College Park after all my friends have graduated? For sure! Do you have any idea how soft the grass on the mall is? I could sit there all day.

I have this conversation all the time with people here about friendships. And I've realized that everyone had a different past when it comes to friends. Not everyone has a friend who lived down the street who they played with every single shabbat afternoon their entire life and after being away for six months can within seconds renew the same friendship. Not everyone has groups of friends who came over multiple times a week in college for movie nights, or piled into a living room for the newest episode of the OC. The basis of a friendship has nothing to do with how long it's going to last. Things happen. And it happens differently for each person.

So time to ditch that conversation and look ahead when I find myself in a park at 1am... whether it be with a new friend here in Israel or an old one at a park in the US. I'll happily enjoy the moment wherever it is. And it's all about what's going to make me happy...

Hi from downtown Silver Spring

... where I'm sitting on the ground by a random office building stealing some random company/person's wireless, and losing feeling in various parts of my body. But at least the weather is great. I feel like a homeless person, except I don't know of too many homeless people who sit around on an iBook. Anyway, I am here because I'm meeting up with a couple friends soon. Then I'm going to Kemp Mill to meet up with another friend and I'll go with her on a tour of Kemp Mill to see various friends including two who have a newborn baby. Aw. Can't wait. And then... going to College Park! I'm throwing myself a party there. How else am I going to see everyone is such a short period of time? I'm excited.

This morning I said bye to my sister, met two friends in Dupont Circle for doughnuts, then met one of my best childhood friends for an early lunch. She told me that she accidentally mentioned my blog to my mom once so... Hi Ema, are you reading this? Just curious.

She also told me which entry is one of her favorites, and I just reread it while waiting here ("I am Here," May 2008) and got all teary eyed. It was an interesting experience reflecting on it from here in the US.

I was just starting to actually miss Israel. I considered this a huge accomplishment. I was even starting to look forward to going back. Then I came down to DC and realized how many people I wanted to see in such a short amount of time, and how much it sucks that I'm practically allotting thirty minute slots for each of my friends (and some have to double up). Not nearly enough time to catch up, share my adventures, and hear about theirs as well. I am generally flexible, and willing to shlep all over, but there are sleeping schedules and work schedules and homework and, most importantly, of course, accommodating my friend who goes to a bar to watch the football game. I wish there were hours in a day. I wish there wasn't an ocean between me and everyone else I know. If only the East Coast of the US was 5500 miles closer... and hey, that would put Chicago and LA where other friends live not that far away as well.

Tomorrow I will hopefully see Lisa in Boston, and the following week I will see Alissa is Boston, and before I know it I will be back in Jerusalem curled up with Harriet the Spy. I will start thinking about when my next trip to the US will be. It will probably be shorter and I'll once again feel stressed about drifting away from everything and everybody. Seeing this friend at lunch today was almost a relief, as I will get to see her again briefly over Rosh Hashanah.

I decided it's possible to question one's decisions without it leading towards regret. I still never regret my decision to make aliyah. I look forward to returning, starting graduate school, and being reunited with my friends there. I'm still leaving bits of myself in different places... Boston, Philadelphia, College Park... everywhere that's important to me. I'll be visiting College Park long after everyone I know there has graduated.

I don't expect to write anything until after I get back, so I wish each and everyone of you... in Israel and all over the US, or the total strangers who come across my blog, and Healthy and Happy New Year full of new and successful beginnings, choices, and just simple day to day victories.