Voter registration – check.


“To all of you with Israeli citizenship – You can call today to check that your registration to vote is valid and where you are registered. It’s automated, easy, and quick… In order to check if you are on the list of registered voters (if you are an Israeli citizen – you should be) call 1-800-200-175 in English and 1-800-200-172 in Hebrew. Tuesday is the last day to correct ommisions by going to Misrad Hapnim!”

I’m registered. Here goes…

CM&N everywhere.

Tonight alone, in sitting down to study for my “political approaches to conflict management” final, only 36 hours away, I came across 4-5 external conflicts in the same room as me. And I couldn’t help attempting to resolve them in my head.

…And no, the number above does not include the conflict between me and my textbooks…

"Stupid" cliche.

“Stupid people” is a cliche I don’t really like or use, but I do think “Irresponsible people” should be in more common usage.

As I am procrastinating studying for my first Conflict Management & Negotiation final, a friend messaged me with a relationship problem. How appropriate!

People are completely irresponsible for themselves. How can you pursue a resolution if you are unwilling to take responsibility for your part of the problem? There is always, definitely, a piece of the pie you can claim your own fault or responsibility. Or, if you don’t like the word fault, fine – but there is some aspect of the conflict, as well as the resolution, you can claim in your hands.

And that isn’t a bad thing, either. It’s a great thing. The more control you have in the realm of the conflict, the more you can do to change it.

That’s why responsibility is so great!

Anyways, the irony of procrastinating my study with this conversation with the friend and his relation woes is, as always, fun and educational.

Side note: this education is making me more straightforward in advice giving. Maybe because I believe in it so much.

Looking out for each (br)other.

Looks like I’m not the only year-old olah with good things happening. A friend of mine, who was in a similar situation to me last year when getting to Jerusalem, is now engaged, along with having set up his business and settled into a ‘real’ life scenario.

If you had asked the two of us about this last year, we would have blown smoke in your face and laughed.

I’m happy when any friend finds their place and feels good, but when it’s a fellow oleh, I just can’t help feeling even happier.

Rolling over.

t’s amazing that we live in a world where two terrorist organizations can run for parliamentary elections in a state that is not quite a state, in a state of corruption and chaos…

One may argue, that is how many democratic nations get started, but I say to that one: Not like this.

Well, then again, you never know. The people have spoken.


Make room down there, Arafat is rolling over.

Katamon rules.

…No, Katamon doesn’t rule, but look, it has rules! Or “etiquette”, rather.

There’s no direct link; Go here, then peek down to the third to last link on the left: “Katamon etiquette.” Click.
Read it down. Laugh it up.

[Note: Maybe I shouldn’t be so mean. The fact is that a lot of these things are true ‘rules’ of living in this area, or cultural behaviors, rather. And people need to know them so they don’t feel stupid or out of place. We learn them pretty fast though. The dating tips prove how much I wouldn’t make it here alone. Anyways, it is nice that someone took the time to post ‘cultural tips’ online for newcomers.]

Catty Katty Katamon.

I’m beginning to appreciate how fortunate I am. In one respect, I’m really really appreciative by now:
That I am not single in catty katty Katamon.
Katamon: my first stop in Israel, courtesy of a tour guide who meant me no harm; was only out to show me the ropes. And the ropes I’ve seen: being pulled into a cliquey society, skimmed from the places from whence they came: New York, J-burg, London, Sydney… Katamon, the place where everyone knows you and you’ve been judged even before you’ve opened your mouth.
Jerusalem’s very own little Upper West Side.
So, for what am I appreciative? That I haven’t been single long enough here to get eaten up alive. I’m not bragging, and part of me is slightly sad that I didn’t have a chance to chew it out, tell it off, and vomit it up. But that’s really OK.
I left New York because I never really fit in with those catty Jewish single crowds. I didn’t come here to get pulled into one – and the fact is, being who I am, I could never be pulled into it anyway…

…not to mention, I’m moving to Katamonim, Jerusalem’s own Brooklyn!