quite an ass kicking.

today i should have been walking around in naot in 60-70 degree weather, praying with meaning after a year’s dry spell, running my hands over white stone and falling in love. instead i was walking around in naot in lesser weather; praying to a passport agency for a way out of here; beating my thumbs to bad radio on the steering wheel; falling asleep after waking up at 4:44 am after a dream that i had found the place where my old passport was (and subsequentially checked out that place, and every other place, for the next 2 hours before leaving to connecticut).

but really, who says we should be anywhere at anytime? sometimes being right here is where you are supposed to be. i didnt have family closure on tuesday. i have been neglecting my mom and brothers for some time. i’ve been having trouble expressing myself to my friends about what they mean to me. i wasnt even packed the morning i was supposed to leave. most of all, i was absent minded enough not to even think about where my passport was the night before. i wasn’t ready to go.

i needed a kick in the ass. these past few months have been fantastic, but i’ve lost sight of why i’m moving to israel, how i’m moving to israel, and who i’m leaving behind. ironic. or not. it doesnt matter. i deserved this, and i accept it, and it’s totally fine. everything is fine. on shabbat last week i prayed for the first time in over a year and a half and i asked for the way to be opened a small bit for me so i could get back in touch with what i should be making my reality, my goals. i think somehow, that prayer got answered when my passport went missing. who knows where it is, who cares. i think i know where i am now, and i’m ready to realize where i’m going.

the plan

friend: “20 years from now when your old and grey and living in Gush Katif you’ll describe your aliyah as the biggest anti-climax of your life.”

lizrael process, part III:
go to connecticut tomorrow for passport agency to get quickie passport.
if i get that, and it’s before 10 30, off to the city for jewish agency papers and then consulate.
if i submit those, i’m good to go.

if i dont get quickie passport, wait until monday for it and go to consulate asap. commence crying about needing visa by friday.

for now, flight on January 9.

round two

a friend asked me what the most traumatic moment in my life was. i really couldn’t come up with an answer.
“my parents divorce?”
it was a question and i dont even know if it’s the real answer. i haven’t really experience much trauma, have i? i’ve been fairly lucky.

so second round: fate 2 – liz 0. i didnt get on the plane today. my passport walked away with my visa, hand in hand, and they left me out of their playdate.

if aliyah were easy, i dont think it would be aliyah… you cant raise yourself without expending some energy. or time…

besides, i’m still lucky. what’s 2 weeks when i have years and years ahead?

you have to work really hard to get the things you really want.

after all, this is gonna be one sweet lemonade. for now, sucking on lemons isn’t so bad.

last words

i dunno. i guess it all makes sense. this is what i’ve been talking about.
i’m not feeling very profound. i’m not feeling much of anything still…
this has been a slow, drawn out thing and it still is.
so… ‘have a safe flight’ and ‘good luck’…

where you from?

so i’m go-go dancing for the last time (for a while) in a NYC club and this guy leans up to me and asks me where i’m from and as i begin to mouth, ‘staten island,’ i had a last minute change of heart and i smile and i tell him, ‘israel’, and he goes, ‘cool’.

reign of terror from a child's mouth

So here’s the problem.

You’ve been training for pain management since you were fourteen and learning how to express your feelings in new ways. Technological advances like razors and parker pen clips on the back of a yellow school bus.

But you’ve graduated since then. Twice. You’ve moved on. You’re not angry, you’re not pained to the bone anymore. You’ve hooked, pulled, smoked a little pot, accomplished a few minor dreams.

You are… Independent

You’re not angry. You’re not resentful. You’re not forbidden and you’re not innocent. You’re nobody’s fool and you’re everybody’s chance.

You’re not settled and you’re not committed and you’re not going to be here for much longer.

You’re happy but it’s just you that is happy and what is that good for when there are at least four people around you that really do care about you?

You’re satisfied with your new attitude but no one else is and there are at least seven people nearby who are wondering about you.

You’re in a state of bliss but on both your hands your beginning to realize you need more fingers to count the people who are starting to feel they’ve lost you.

But you’re happy.


My dad said the reason my neck and upper back went stiff in the last few days is because I have not expressed my feelings or stress related to the move and so it has converted from mental energy to physical energy and has collected in this area creating knots of pain. If I could only express the stress in other ways, says dad, the torturous back pain would dissolve.

Can I express stress I don’t feel? Can I say what I don’t feel?

Maybe it’s tucked away somewhere besides my upper back?

I thought maybe if I rant to Microsoft Word for a bit it would eventually come out.

I haven’t cried in three months. I haven’t been with a guy in three months. I haven’t harbored negative attitudes in three months.

I’ve been… happy… for three months.

I’ve been single, proud, excited, positive, outstanding, productive.

Apparently, the people who want me to be happy aren’t happy with this.

They want feelings. Sigh. Feelings only get us in trouble.

Expectations lead to disappointment. Expectations lead to disappointment. Expectations lead to disappointment.

Mantra – mantra – mantra.

Drama is the creation of alternate reality in order to avoid dealing with your own self.

I’ll never go back there. This is the new improved laid back Liz supreme (for 55 more cents, you get a liter of Coke).

And suddenly, a soft wind blows past my ear and whispers in tongues, ‘you’re leaving your loved ones behind…’

I tilt my head to catch the wave and suddenly my surfboard is 100 feet away and I’m doggy paddling to shore. With a week and half till I leave, you want to pop my bubble? Or create one?

Well, I’m not crying yet and my back still hurts.

Good night, lovers.