Monday, August 22, 2011

From my actual journal

I have this blog, but I also have an actual handwritten journal that spans a few notebooks. I started journaling in college, often using the back of a small notebook that I carried for last-minute reminders, shopping lists, packing lists, and recipes. Those backs of notebooks have since been upgraded to their own notebooks, and my journal now spans multiple notebooks.

This was written earlier this evening (there are occasional translations that I put in, which are translations and are not in my actual journal. They are marked. Other than that, it's exactly how it is written in my journal):

August 21, 2011- 9:39 pm- 96 st.- waiting for the 2 home
Home. Always that funny (not really) word followed-- accompanied by-- a feeling of duality and confusion. Oh joy.
But that wasn't the point of this.
I'm on my way back from a date. Date was nice and it would be nice to see this guy again. But he's not planning on making aliyah in the near future. [Note to self: (a) Just because someone served in the Israeli army doesn't mean they want to live there; (b) Doesn't mean they speak Hebrew; (c) Ask that question BEFORE you ask them out. End note.]
We kind of were leaving it as, it would be nice to go out again- maybe before I go back. But I didn't think feel that was right, because I know that I want to live in Israel. I could live in the US-- or somewhere outside of Israel-- for a bit, but I want to raise my family there. Despite the educational system which I hate. No, hate is too strong a word-- it should be reserved for things that deserve it-- like Hamas, Hezbollah, and Ahmadinejad. Anyway. Digression.
I was walking down the hill in VV this past Shabbos and I thought, "Well-- what if I get married and moved to America for a year or two?" And felt like I was going to cry. Actually cry. Doesn't really make sense, but I feel like I want my shana rishona [edit that was not in my journal: shana rishona = first year, referring to the first year of marriage] to be...not holy, that's not the right word- But I want it to be in Israel.
Anyway, so I didn't feel it was right, blah-blah, but I felt that an explanation was warranted. So I told him about the person who I could have married, had I stayed here. And I felt myself getting very quiet-- not my voice, because I still need that conviction to remind myself and help myself recognize that it was right-- but I think-- for the first time I felt a measure of peace with that decision. It still isn't total at-peace with the decision, but it's the most שלם [edit that was not in my journal: That word transliterates to "shah-laym," which in Hebrew litereally means "wholeness," but when someone is "shalem" with something it means they've kind of made peace with it and they're ok with it] I've felt with it in two years. Just amazing.

I think it's good I took the train home tonight. Writing is good for me.

10:20 pm:
Even if I could live here-- I've changed-- too much, I think, for him. He still loves the pre-aliyah Lauren, and that's not who I am now. זה מה שיש [edit that was not in my journal: Those words transliterate to, "zeh mah sheh-yesh," which in Hebrew means, "that's what there is," kind of like, "it is what it is."

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