Showing posts with label Dating/being single. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dating/being single. Show all posts

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."

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Shavuot-- aka, the holiday that vegetarians and those that do not like to be meat appreciate

Shavuot is the holiday that comes at the end of the counting of the Omer. People stay up all night learning and pray as early as possible. And in Jerusalem many people walk to the Kotel, the Western Wall, to pray there. That custom comes from a few sources, one being that once the Old City and the Western Wall were were liberated, Shavuot was the first time we were able to go there, and there is also a concept of making a pilgrimage to the Temple 3 times a year (Pesach/Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot). Between these two, it's become a tradition on Shavuot to go to the Kotel on Shavuot morning after staying up (or not) learning. My favorite part of Shavuot morning is after davening. At the Kotel plaza, there are people making kiddush and giving out small packages of food (muffins/cake, a drink, etc.). And you leave the Kotel, by all the construction (ok, maybe less so now) and the beginning of Yafo, there is also-- you guessed it-- someone (a few someones) making kiddush and giving out cake and stuff. This country is amazing in the way that people take care of each other and how on major event days, someones are looking out for the rest of the population somehow.

Another tradition is eating dairy, for many reasons (see the link for Shavuot above). So I made lots of dairy. I ended making dinner last minute, so I made lots of dairy. Aside from challah (which is not dairy and I love to make), I made a dairyfest: cinnamon cheesecake with nutmeg in the crust, lasagna, a dairy noodle kugel, and pizza. And then I went to lunch by a friend of a friend and-- surprise! Dairy! I like dairy. Dairy makes me happy. Except when I'm meat (hence the reason I don't like eating meat).

Usually (like I've been here so long...well, usually what I do when I'm in Israel-put it that way; I've been here for 3 Shavuots) I stay up all night, go to the Kotel, and then go back to wherever I'm staying and SLEEP. This year I had a friend over and she didn't feel great, so we stayed home. I stayed up most of the night and learned, davened, then went to sleep until the afternoon. In the afternoon we went to a NBN unofficially singles event ("This event is for singles and young couples in their 20’s & 30’s", which means it's a singles event). On one hand, it's another singles event. On the other hand, I see a whole bunch of people at once and then I'm "yotze" for a whole year. That's convenient.

What I used to do for Shavuot was determined by where I was. If I was upstate, after we finished dinner I would go down the hill (with a pint of Ben & Jerry's and enough other candy and cheese balls to last through the night, sit at the back of the nightclub (the nightclub is really an auditorium-like space with a stage that serves as the shul for the main minyan on Shabbos in the summer) and learn with Chari and maybe a few others, take plenty of breaks in the middle, pass out for a little while on the benches, get up, then daven and go back up the hill and sleep. If I was by a friend's, we would usually go to her shul, learn, eat, daven, then go back to her house and sleep until the afternoon. And then in both scenarios, have a regular second dag of Yom Tov.

Friday, May 27, 2011

it's been 2 weeks...

ok, 17 days technically since I updated. Sorry.

So-- Yom Ha'atzmaut. Oh, and Lag Ba'omer. And fairly soon, Yom Yerushalayim and Shavuot.

So-- Yom Ha'atzmaut. Started the night off by doing an avtacha at a street party that ended up getting closed early by the police because there were too many people there (why they didn't just not let anybody else in when it got full is asking too much from Israelis). So I went home at 2 am instead of at 4 am, which was fine with me. The avtacha was supposed to start at 11, so I figured that I would have to be there at 10. No, the volunteer office called me and said I had to be at the station at 9. We left the station at 9:45. Next year I'm going to a BBQ instead. During the day I went home (oh, I made flag cookies. Yummy flag cookies) and Rita and Dov had a party in the afternoon, then I went back into Jerusalem for a BBQ-- kind of a winding down because everyone already BBQ'd during the rest of the day.

Lag Ba'omer was, as usual, a pyromaniac's dream. I went to the NBN bonfire, and next year I will be going to the MDA Chul one. Josh made one, which would have been awesome to go to, but I didn't know where it was and he didn't answer his phone. And I forgot that I had Gavy's number, who I also could have called. But on the upside, at least I didn't try to find it because as Gavy put it-- "it was on top of a hill where you would think you would be raped and dumped." Right. Next time I'll call Josh in advance, or someone else. I definitely have bonfire pictures somewhere.

What else, what else? Getting ready to wrap up the school year. I'm going to be in only two schools next year (thank goodness). I'm going on some Fridays to sort of get acquainted with the new school for next year so that I don't come in with a total surprise and actually start working well. Like I said, it will be interesting because it's a population that I haven't really worked with, and it's also a high school, so there's a very big element of getting ready for life in the community, which should be kind of cool.

And Vered made aliyah! Yay! Mazal tov and welcome! Joint pancake birthday party to happen in the near future.

I think that's about it. I really wish I had more to say.

Oh! I can talk about dating here. Over the past couple of weeks I've gone out on a few dates. Nothing came out of them, but at least I went. And some of them were with Israelis...yay for me! That being said, still looking...and I'm open to suggestions (within reason; don't think about setting me up with a 35 year old, or someone who isn't religious, or doesn't speak a word of English/Hebrew-- yes, they've all been done...)

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Lessons Learned, part I

This week-- no, these past few weeks, almost month, have been very, very hard for me.

Between difficulties with paperwork at my schools (literally making me sick from the stress-- keeping me up at night/waking me up in the middle of the night; nauseous; feeling sick), people I care about very much being sick and/or in the hospital, questions about how I want my life and envision it coming up and people I love(d)...it's been tough lately.

I called one of my friends tonight to find out how her husband's tekes went (her husband just finished about finished basic training in the army and had a tekes this past week). We talked about how Shabbat was, and I said that I was having a kind of difficult time with the reports I had to write and how I have a whole life waiting for me in America-- including no chumus at all-- and here...it's really hard, I have a container half-full (half-empty) of chumus (for those of you who are coming in now, chumus = no job and no relationship; the goal is to empty the chumus container-- aka, have a job and a relationship) and she said that maybe I have a 2/3 empty container; I asked her how, because I have a job but not relationship. She said that I'm in Israel.

It kind of make sense-- definitely makes sense-- if Israel is such a big thing that I was willing to leave my family, my job, and a lot of important and easier things in America, maybe it does deserve a place in the chumus container. Granted, chumus as a metaphor came about because one roommate said that she didn't have a job and didn't have a relationship, but had a chumus...Israel was no where in that. So it can either be that Israel is a given, it's granted, and therefore does not need to be in the chumus container, or that it's something that should be in the container because it's important enough to give up other things for. I'm not sure...thoughts anyone?

I've brought this up before and it gets me every time but it still...doesn't make it any easier. In the Gemara there is a part about one spouse wanting to make aliyah [move to Israel] and the other not. And it's valid grounds for divorce (not poskining anything here, but just making a statement). Which to me means that Israel is pretty damn important. Important enough to give up a marriage, the other half of your soul.
It also confuses me, which is something I haven't brought up but have been thinking about for the past year and a half (wow, has it only been a year and a half...? Feels like so much longer and shorter at the same time). How can two parts of one soul be so conflicted about such a major issue? It seems like that's saying, "Something isn't right." Maybe it means that it's not right, because how can one whole have such a conflict? It's not possible, or at least from my limited perspective as a human and seeing things from that perspective, that something so in conflict can be unified and right. It can't.

I said it then and I'm saying it again, maybe to try to convince myself. It's not fair to start a marriage like that and it's not fair to have a marriage like that.

Two stories about two women who are close to me:
I: One wanted to make aliyah a number of years ago, but wanted to make aliyah already married. She got married when she was in her mid-30's to someone who was not planning on making aliyah the same way she was-- then. She got married, had a child, and made her life with her family in her home country. Her child graduated high school and went to learn in Israel for a year; the child did and also made aliyah. She is planning on making aliyah with her husband, joining their child here, within 7-10 years.
II: The other woman was seriously dating someone, and she, too, wanted to make aliyah. The person she was dating wanted to finish his degree and then maybe or when he retired or something make aliyah. Something happened in Israel (for a shock...things never happen here...) and she decided that she wanted to be here. And so she moved here, alone, and met her husband, and raised a family here.

Both woman are successful. Both women are happy. Both have at least one child in another country. But how to reconcile the need to live in Israel with the feeling that someone is right for you, even though they're not going to live where you want...I haven't worked that out yet.

More on this another time; I have to get to sleep for my half-empty chumus container (aka, work) tomorrow.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

The Choices We Make

The past 13 months has been a time of big choices for me:

-The choice to actually make aliyah-- to pack up my life, get on the plane, and move to Israel.
-The choice to date someone who was a friend (not only my friend, but someone in my one chevra at the time).
-The choice to go to ulpan.
-The choice to stay in ulpan, despite being offered a part-time job that would have helped me ease into OT here a little more instead of going in full-force.
-The choice to stay in my practice area or switch.
-To work in private schools or misrad hachinuch.
-Where to live.
-Who to live with.


I made a choice in July 2009 that I'm still not at ease with. I wrote a little about it in August through December 2009 here ("An aliyah engagement," "Not feeling very happy," "What would it take?," and, "Into the single digits"), and recently in the past couple of posts. It's not fair.

Nobody ever said life was fair, but this feels extra unfair, if that makes sense. It's like G-d playing a game with my life. G-d said, "Go live in Israel." It just hit me now. G-d said, "Go live in Israel." No one said anything about it being easy. It says in the Gemara (Masechet Brachot, maybe?"), "אין ארץ ישראל ניקנת אלא על ידי יסורים." It's just...why does it have to be so darn hard?

Question: How do you choose between someone who is so right and somewhere you can't not be?
Answer: You hurt.


We all have choices to make in life. Some we're sure about, others...not so much. There are ones we can explain and others that just have no good answer, and some hurt more than others. There are some that make us feel so good and we know are right, we just know. G-d gives us the choices and the options, and it's up to us to do the best we can with them.

Some choices are ones we put ourselves in. Many of the choices that we have are the result of other choices that we've made and...we have to work with those and make the best of it. There are some non-negotiables and those can make things a lot harder and a lot easier at the same time.

To quote Pippin again, "...And if I'm never tied to anything I'll never be free."
"I'm not a river or a giant bird
That soars to the sea
And if I'm never tied to anything
I'll never be free

I wanted magic shows and miracles
Mirages to touch
I wanted such a little thing from life
I wanted so much
I never came close, my love
We never came near
It never was there
I think it was here

They showed me crimson, gold and lavender
A shining parade
But there's no color I can have on earth
That won't finally fade
When I wanted worlds to paint
And costumes to wear
I think it was here
'Cause it never was there

I wanted magic shows and miracles
Mirages to touch
I wanted such a little thing from life
I wanted so much"

I wanted him, he wants me, and-- there could be an us-- IF. But I made my choice and he made his, and they are not compatible with each other. So...there can't be an us. I made the choice to accept it and move on. I dated other people, loved one. And then...he will always be the one I could have married. But I put him into a corner of my heart and closed that part because I had to. A choice that wasn't so much of a choice. And I will thrive here. I will live, set down my roots and make my life and make my way here. That is my choice, and my choice to be happy. Here. In Israel. Even without him.

"Rivers belong where they can ramble; eagles belong where they can fly. I've got to be where my spirit can run free/got to find my corner of the sky." My spirit is free here, in Israel, at home. And it's tied to Israel, so it can be free and soar and all those metaphorical thing that sound cheesy.

I wish I had a more eloquent way of putting this, but this is me and how I think and I write how I think and right now everything is just spilling out because I don't know how to stop it.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

"You're an Israeli wife"

No, I'm not married, don't worry. I didn't, you know, date, get engaged and married in the past 5 days and manage to keep it all a secret.
I am dating someone, though, whose identity shall remain anonymous right now because I don't know if he is comfortable with blogging. We will call him B, since he is the second guy that I've dated since I made aliyah (and there is a "B" in his name). He is also an oleh, but he's been here for a while, and most of his immediate family made aliyah as well. We met a few months ago, but we only started dating about a month ago-- and, yes, I have been in the States for 3 of those weeks. We saw each other...well, when we started dating, and haven't seen each other since. Why? Because B is in the army, and the army didn't let him out the Shabbat before I left.
I told my adopted sister (for those of you who are just coming in now, my adopted family is awesome. My dad grew up with the mom, and our families have always been close-- they have always been like an aunt and uncle and the kids were like cousins) that I was dating someone and he's in the army. And she responded with the subject line.
Not quite a wife-- we're dating, not married, but this is a big part of Israeli culture. Army and the army life. I'm learning a lot about the army and the stupidity and the good that happens there. The 7-hour time difference is actually working because he's up at random hours coming off of shmira, or when I'm going to sleep he's just getting up, and when I get up he's sometimes waiting around for something or to go somewhere. So we make it work. But I'm learning that the army has a time schedule of its own. Just because you're supposed to go on shmira at 9 pm doesn't mean it's always going to happen; you might get switched, something might come up, they might call you to do something else. But the army is also respectful of religion (he is not in a Hesder unit (type of service that combines studying in a Yeshiva with army service))-- after one of the fast days there was a masa (yes, stupid and not so respectful there...). Normally all the soldiers would go, but the soldiers who fasted were excused-- they did shmira, I think. Or something else. And after the fast, the army served a huge meal with meat and chicken and...lots of stuff. And on the other fast day, he was excused from his patrols.
It's so strange and wonderful to me that even though he is in the army and we don't get to see each other much and won't get to see each other as often as we would like even when I'm back, right now he gets out every other weekend for 3 days-- Thursday, Friday, and Shabbat, aka "chamshu"sh (chamishi-shishi-shabbat)," and I know that those are times I can count on to see him (unless something comes up). If I was dating someone in the American army, I could easily not see him in-person for months at a time. I'm learning. Slowly, but I'm learning.

The non-army long-distance stuff-- it's annoying because we don't get to see each other much-- and when we do it's using Oovoo (like Skype, only better because you can have more people video conferencing in and you can send video messages). But it's something. Three years ago it wouldn't have been this easy. I also just got this service called Spikko, which gave me an Israeli number than B can call me on. Our phone bills are going to be huge, but this should make it a bit less, at least from his end. It's also different than a "regular" relationship because you're not physically with each other and you aren't going out on dates or spending time doing things together. We talk. A lot. And we play games over the phone-- Jotto, Battleship, Ghost (any other suggestions, please let me know! But not chess, because we already know about that). It's definitely harder than a normal relationship, and his army schedule in some ways makes it easier to talk, and in some ways makes it harder. But it's good.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Pesach in the Holy Land

Subtitle: My first chag as an Israeli

Pesach is one of those holidays that is so darn family-centered. Growing up my parents, sisters, and I always went upstate with my father's parents, my aunt, uncle, and cousin (my dad's sister and her family), and my mom's parents (my mom is an only child). And there were 12 of us in the house, plus the dog-- Bubby and Zaidy (my dad's parents)'s room, my aunt and uncle's room, my family's room, and my Grandma and Grandpa (my mom's parents)'s room. The kids all slept in in their parent's rooms/in the couch when passed out from exhaustion at the seder.
We had our traditions-- the kids rotated setting the table/serving/cleaning up; 2 kids per seder and the rest of the meals were 1 child each. My mom brought the European kiddush cups for the seder, four of them in four different sizes. There were originally 3 in the set from my great-grandparents, and then a fourth one was added from a family friend. Only the largest two were big enough to actually have enough wine from, but we used them anyway. My Zaidy, my Grandpa, my dad, and my uncle each had a seder plate, and everyone had their own kiddush cup. My Zaidy's was red/maroon glass, my Grandpa's kiddush cup was green with a glass insert, my dad's was silver with his name, and my uncle's was silver also. My cousin had his own, too, also silver. My Bubby, Grandma, and aunt used glass ones, and my mom and sisters and I used the European cups and sometimes supplemented with other cups.
The way Pesach went in my house was a couple of weeks before Pesach, my parents would go upstate and bring stuff up, and then a few days before my Bubby and Zaidy would go up and supervise the cleaning lady. In our house in the city we would clean and get the house Pesachdik because my dad came back over chol hamoed to work. My Grandpa made the charoset in our house, with my little sister and I as taste testers; mostly wine, but he always made one container with grape juice.
We would all get upstate, and my Bubby and Zaidy would already be there, usually my aunt, uncle, and cousin as well, and my Bubby would be making chremzel (matzah meal pancakes) for us to eat. We would unload in between eating, saying hi, and petting the dog.
Once everything was in and we were ready to get ready for the seder, my Grandma would do the eggs, whoever was on duty for the seder would set the table with my Bubby, my Bubby would make the salad, my mom would be heating the food up, and my aunt would be doing the seder plates and whatnot. Everyone was doing something.
Then the guys came home from shul. Treasure would let us know. Eventually the guys would pick their matzahs, everyone would end up with a Haggadah (usually the same ones, although it always took 20 minutes to pick...), and we would start. Zaidy made kiddush, the Grandpa, then my dad, then my uncle, then BZ. For Karpas, my Bubby would make the salt water (with pepper too) and put it in two white bowls with the same cups every year. Once Yachatz happened, we (the kids) would tell our fathers/grandfathers that we would "keep" the afikomen safe and make sure it was in a safe place until the end of the seder. My BZ took his dad's, and us girls (my sisters and I) would split up between my dad, Zaidy, and Grandpa. Usually my dad gave it to my mom to hold and Lis got it; Andrea got Grandpa's because she sat next to him, and I got my Zaidy's. Once Andrea got married and went to Seder with Yoni's family, I took Grandpa's. And we would go through the seder, reading and talking. Ma Nishtana, Lis and BZ did. We used to do the multi-lingual thing, but then it got tiring. Of course there were the classic moments of, "And the rasha says, 'What kind of crap is this?'" and divrei Torah and comments interspersed in Maggid and in-between. Motzei everyone did on their own-- but until that happened... We got to shulchan orech-- no matter who was on duty, I served soup. My thing was soup. Is soup (as in, I know what everybody in my family wants and can tell you-- clear soup, veggies, no veggies, only certain veggies, noodles, kneidel, how much...it's kinda freaky/cool). Then came tzafun, aka negotiations. We used to negotiate individually, but eventually we all (all 4 of us cousins) negotiated together as a group, on one night for both sedarim. It was a game: we would hide the afikoman, we would say we won't give it back, my dad would threaten to eat another piece of matzah instead and not wait for the afikoman and we would talk to my Zaidy. Grandpa always agreed right away, or before my Grandma died he would "consult" with her. But it was just so much fun. As the seder went on, though, there would be different people "taking breaks" by falling asleep on the couch or going to their beds. At Hallel and Nirtzah, we would go around during Echad Mi Yodeah and Adir Hu, etc., taking turns reading. If I close my eyes-- actually, I don't have to, I can just picture it-- I can still hear almost hear my Grandma's voice, and I can still see and hear my Grandpa reading from the large print Haggadah in his English-Hungarian accent. I miss it. I miss them.
After Grandma died it wasn't the same-- close, but still felt her missing. And then Andrea got married and they were by us once, but after that went to the hotel. And last year Grandpa died so that was one less person at the table. And this year...well, this year, I wouldn't be there, my aunt and uncle came to Israel because BZ is here for the year, and so my Bubby and Zaidy and parent and Lis would have been the only ones. And that's depressing. So Bubby, Zaidy, my parents, and Lis went to the hotel and they're going to get to spend the Seder with Andrea and Yoni and Squishy-- one, at least. The other seder they're doing with Yoni's family.

I'm having a hard-ish time. Remember how my mom didn't want me to be lonely? I'm not lonely, but I do miss my family and friends back in NY. I think I feel it a little more acutely because of the break-up and not having that person like before, but it's also the first time I'm away from my family and missing the real traditions that we do every year and the...just the home and family. Sukkot isn't as much, because I went away for the last days anyway so it was kind of whatever. But Pesach-- we were all together. And there was always too much food and too many drinks and everyone getting on each other's nerves and being in and out and...this Pesach is going to be hard. Good, nice, different, but hard.

I also realized that I can't not live in Israel, but I definitely left someone I very well could have married. I'm having a bit of a down moment.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

My head is clear now / I know I'm right / I will not fear now / I will not fight -"Reach," Caren Tackett

I am no longer dating the person I was for the past 2 months. So why is this going in my aliyah blog- what does this have to do with my aliyah process?

Well, for starters, we have a lot of mutual friends-- many of whom form a strong social network and support for me. We started dating about a week and a half after I got here. Which is interesting timing because I had just gotten here, and it's not like there was anything going on before I got to Israel.

He is also an oleh, although he's been here longer than I have. We were looking for different things in the relationship. So it ended.

And so went my first relationship in Israel. And now I am single again. But not to worry-- it's Israel! Everyone wants to set anyone single up!

Monday, December 21, 2009

Into the single digits

The countdown, not the temperature in NY, although it kind of almost feels like it when the wind blows. For those you who have not heard, there was a nor'easter last night (Motza"sh) until Sunday morning. It dumped anywhere from 6-26 inches (that's 15.2-66 cm for you non-Americans) on Westchester-NYC-Long Island. I have had my snow for the season, I am ready to come to Israel. It's supposed to snow-then-turn-to-rain on Christmas, which I will be in NY for. I will also be eating the gingerbread castle/palace/harem on Christmas Eve instead of on New Year's Eve, as has been the tradition for the past couple of years. Unfortunately, I won't be here for that this year. Fortunately?

It's weird...there are all of these things that I'm hearing about that I will be missing...because I'll be in Israel. It's starting to get more real. It's like-- no, I won't be there...I'd love to, but I'll be in Israel and I can't come in.

I know in my head and my heart it's the right thing to do, and I want to be in Israel...but I...I'm starting to get the "going to miss a lot of things."



I also saw the person who I broke up with today at my aliyah party. I was so excited to see him because he was one of my really good friends, but as I was walking to the subway on my way to go home, I started thinking about him and what I was giving up. I gave up someone I could have married...not definite, but a definite possibility. I was talking to Rabbi S. and I said something about that I was going out with someone for a little bit, but we broke up because I was making aliyah and he wasn't. Ever. Not like, "Maybe," but "Never." And Rabbi S said, "Hashem sees that." And that struck me. Not because I'm so, "Hashem this, Hashem that," and because "G-d" is every other word out of my mouth-- but the idea that this is something that is bigger than me. There's a mishna in Masechet Ketubot (I'm pretty sure it's Ketubot; not looking it up at the moment) that says that if either spouse wants to move to Israel and the other refuses-- that's [valid] grounds for divorce. This, moving to Israel, making aliyah, is so much bigger than me and it's something...I don't know. I mean, this was a relationship that I wanted for 3 years. 3 years! And to have it and then have it taken away/end because I'm moving to Israel? Not fair. But also this mishna says that one spouse wanting to move to Israel and the other refusing is valid grounds for a divorce is also like-- ok. I'm not crazy. I mean, I am...I gave up something I wanted for 3 years that could have been a marriage. But there's something bigger than that, which apparently is not new. And G-d knows that.

So here is to the countdown continuing; me getting more accustomed to the idea of not being around for everything; getting acclimated to my new life as an olah; and to finding my bashert (more on this later...yes, there's more)!

Friday, August 21, 2009

An aliyah engagement

(note: This is a serious entry. Many of the entries that I write are lighter, and even if they're about more serious things they're still kind of with a light tone. This one isn't.)

Someone said that (the subject) to me today-- I'm engaged to making aliyah. It kind of is an engagement in the sense that it's a commitment-- a big commitment, and it's a decision that I've made that I'm dedicated to and have been making other decisions around. And that decision really...it can make for making some decisions that I don't really like or want to have to make.

I never really thought about it like that-- aliyah was...moving to Israel. But the reasons behind it and that decision is ultimately a commitment-- when I thought about making aliyah, it was a thought. And then I thought some more about it and it became a choice: Do I make aliyah or do I not make aliyah? And then I decided to make aliyah, that was a decision that I made and then started seeing things through that lens:
-When am I going to make aliyah? When do I want to, when will be a realistic timeframe?
-What job am I going to take? What kind of experience will this be? Will I be able to transfer the skills to Israel? Do I want to take a 12-month position-- what about a school? Then I'll be able to go back to Israel in the summer until I make aliyah.
-Do I need __fill-in-the-blank-thing__? Am I going to take it to Israel? Can I chuck this?
-Who should I date-- should I date here? Should I only date someone who is set on making aliyah? What if he says "maybe I'll make aliyah, but I don't really know." Or, "When I retire I'll make aliyah"?
-What stuff should I send to Israel? What can I send that I won't need here for the next year? What's worth it to send? To buy here vs. buy there?


And then something happened that made me stop. There was someone that I was interested in a while back and nothing happened. And then we sort of...got together kind of. Sounds cheesy, but "it just happened." Neither of us had planned it-- I was definitely not looking to start anything so close to when I leave, unless it was with someone who was planning on making aliyah as well, and he knew that I was leaving which was why he hadn't started anything as well. But then it just sort of happened. We started by talking about Israel and agreed to see what happened between then and when I left for Israel. And then we talked about it again. And again. And again. And then we came to the realization that...I wasn't going to stay here and he wasn't going to move there. And we decided that we're going to stop it now before it gets any farther because we're just going to be hurt. It really, really sucks because we both want this relationship. Could we continue it until I go? Yeah, but there's no real reason to. We're both dating seriously, dating with the end goal in mind being mariage and this would be a relationship that would not be going there because we're going to be living 6000 miles away from each other, and that doesn't work for a marriage. Could we continue it, I make aliyah and be there for ulpan and then come back for the summer and we pick up where we left off? Sure, but then I'd be going back to Israel after the summer and that leaves us where exactly? Yeah, where we were before-- with me in Israel and him in America. Not so conducive to a relationship with the goal being marriage. So we decided to not continue.


I know that if I don't make aliyah I'm going to regret it, and I know that three years ago I wanted to go out with him, and I definitely wouldn't mind going out with him now-- I'd like to. But I know that if I go out with him I'm putting aliyah on indefinite hold, potentially forever if we were to get married. And I would resent not moving to Israel and while I know that it would have been my choice to enter the relationship knowing that he didn't want to move to Israel, I would still hope for it and would be upset that I didn't. So I realized that that relationship, as much as we both want it, is not going to be a good one ultimately and so we ended it before it got any further-- farther?-- nevermind, before it went anywhere else.


If we had been in a relationship when I went to Israel last year, would I have ended up feeling so comfortable-- or would I have gone in knowing that this was a vacation and it was temporary? I really never planned on making aliyah, but I guess I hadn't started my life here yet so I was open to the life there more-- I wasn't committed to staying in NYC. What if I had taken the Board of Ed scholarship and had a commitment here for 3 years? I would have gone knowing I couldn't stay. The only commitment I had when I left school was my loans, which technically could be paid off from anywhere as long as they got paid. So...nothing really holding me in NY. But if I did, I wonder how my approach and experiences in Israel would have been different.


Next up: Thinking about relationships in Israel

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

to quote Ilana, "We made the cover of the jewish week!!!!"

http://www.thejewishweek.com/viewArticle/c36_a16411/News/New_York.html

It's an article about the NY --> Israel Coffee Group. Only correction: I pushed off my aliyah by 6 months, not 6 years...

Friday, July 3, 2009

Whoever said patience is a virtue--

was probably around a lot of impatient people in his/her lifetime and just got frustrated.



I do not have enough patience, especially when it comes to Israeli things (okay, in general big things that have a significant impact on my life...right now it's mostly aliyah...). Really, things can get done quickly-- IF someone is inclined to do it. But there seems to be a laid-back attitude of, "It will happen when it happens/all in good time" there, and it's very frustrating. Very frustrating. Respectful, curteous, timely customer service is one American thing I'd like to see in Israel (they've got enough America there-- what, they can't bring this? No, that would just be...well...nice. Not that Israelis aren't nice. But more on that in another entry; this is getting rediculously off-topic).

Also, the "if it's not due tomorrow, I'll handle it tomorrow" approach. For example, if I was making aliyah in the summer, my paperwork would be done already-- signed, stamped, approved, I'd have my oleh visa...but since I'm going in the fall, they're not going to do anything until after the summer olim.

There are a few things that need to happen before I know anything definite:
1. The Sochnut needs to approve my aliyah (except my shaliach is out of the country)
2. I need to get my olah visa from the Consulate (dependent on 1)
3. I need to apply to Ulpan Etzion (also, dependent on 1)


There are things I need to know for me:
1. When the NBN winter flight is going to be (except they're not going to know that until after the chagim. Which I don't really get-- why are you waiting? ElAl already set its flight schedule. Maybe they're waiting to see if they can get a charter flight vs. group flights?)
2. When some people are getting married (one friend already has her date set, and I'm waiting to hear about...2? 3? something like that others)
I really want to go on the NBN flight, but it depends on when people get married...the friend I know about's date doesn't conflict-- I'll be in the middle/end of ulpan (minor detail that I have to work out)


I just like knowing big things in advance. Advance notice for my future husband, whoever he may be: Surprise me with the engagement. Make it some time that I won't even think about-- like when after a hike when we're all sweaty and dirty from the hike and just enjoying each other and the country. Or when we're relaxing and I totally would not expect it. But not the "dinner and a carriage ride/picnic at sunset/other romantic-y thing, because those are overrated and (much as I like the romance) I'd rather it be...more us...and-- well, cliches aren't me and I hope aren't you either. (this is an Israel blog, ok? And where better to think about marriage than Israel when everyone and their mother/father/cousinS/neighborS/etc. tries to set you up the second they find out that you're single? And if you read this and want to set me up, leave a comment and I'll get back to you)

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Next step-- approval!

You thought I was going to say I got approved for aliyah...no, not quite.
I did, however, get my documents checked by Shai (the Jewish Agency shaliach), gave in my financial affidavit and passport pictures (printed earlier today) to NBN-- see this entry for a bit on that; I decided to practice being Israeli and ignore what they said. Worked out nicely-- now let's see if they don't lose the documents...
I should hear back about approval and Etzion after the summer, but Shai doesn't think there will be a problem (Hi, Murphy, because I said something. I should go back and erase that and bite my tongue. But I'm not-- which may come back to bite me in the tooseek (thank you Benji Lovitt of "What War Zone"-- see my oleh blog links-- for the spelling. Not that he knows who I am, but I found his blog and think that spelling is great. Benji, if you would like to link to my blog, feel free))...but-- back to the mother of all Israeli phrases-- "יהיה בסדר"-- "y'hiyeh b'seder-- "it'll be ok/fine." (I'm just full of cliches tonight, aren't I? And parentheses.)

But back to the meeting. I met with Robin Berman, who works in the employment dept. of NBN. Really, I don't think I need to have any more "pre-aliyah meetings" unless it's for a very specific purpose, like this was. This one was to get my documents checked. I don't need employment meetings, unless it deals with OT specifically. I don't need "community meetings" because I know where I'm going to start out and have some ideas-- and I'll go away for Shabbatot, so I'll see what communities I like. I know that the large populations of singles are in Jerusalem (Anglos in Katamon, Rechavia, German Colony, etc.) and around Bar Ilan (Givat Shmuel-ish area). I know that I want to live up North eventually, but there aren't really singles up there. Which limits my dating pool...If there's the word "informational" in the meeting-- odds are I don't need it. I have the information, I know where to find the stuff I don't have, and I know how to use my email to email people questions. I'm really good at that.

If I haven't heard back by September, I'll email NBN and Shai. Because really, that's only 4 months. I mean, it's Israel and I could do this 4 weeks before and no one would say boo-- Shai goes, "This is for the summer?" ...which is in about 6 weeks...it was funny when Robin went upstairs to get Shai. I had my meeting with Robin-- she gave me a few tips about employment and then went to check about my affidavit and if someone could come look at my documents. So Shai comes in and goes, "Hey! How are you?" Robin goes, "You know each other?" It was a "you-had-to-be there" moment, I think.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Living arrangements

Still don't know when I'm making aliyah...but anyway.

I want to live in Jerusalem, but I don't want to live in Katamon-Rechavia, where I will probably end up living anyway, because it's like the Upper West Side, except in Jerusalem. And I can't stand the UWS here.

The Katamon area and singles community is called the "beitza"-- aka, "The Swamp." I don't want to get stuck there, and I just...I don't.

Any other ideas?