Job growth.

Man, I don’t even realize how much I should be missing this place when I’m gone.

I mean that especially in relation to my job. I’m in creative marketing; obviously my marketing is reflective/directed towards American populations. It’s so refreshing to be here and remember why I do what I do, for who I’m doing it. It’s clarity, it’s a boost, it’s redefining my job, adjusting my vision. It’s fresh air.

I never knew I had this ‘commercialized’ self; I’m way beyond office monkey – I like my job and it means something. I don’t feel pushed around. I feel creative freedom, space to move around, think outside the triangle. It feels good.

So being back in the Land o’ Commercialism, somehow, gives me new life – Gap! MTV! Starbucks! Barnes & Noble! There they are, supporting me every step to the office in Midtown. And then I sit down at my desk and feel full.

Wow. I’m definitely not saying I sold out. I wear pajama items to work sometimes and never comb my hair and curse in front of my boss.

But still: College self – meet Real World self.

The bigness of a dry erase board (part 2).

Last week was my one-year anniversary of me working at my job.

Jeepers. In so little time I have accomplished so much:

-a one-year anniversary of living in Israel
-a one-year anniversary of working at the same office
-a one-year process of finding someone, getting engaged to them and marrying them
-finishing one year in my Masters program

Well, in honour of the second one, I am reposting my feelings from around a year ago, when my new job was still fresh:

“hi dad,

so yesterday xxx came to my office and i let him in and he was very impressed by how ‘fancy’ and ‘serious’ it was, like an ‘american’ office… and the truth is, it resembles a nyc office to some extent… except that we are all wearing jeans…
anyways, he was also very impressed with my fancy high tech monitor and my own office, and my phone and my dry erase board, etc, etc and it reminded me of when i was little and you used to bring me to your office and i would be struck with awe at the ‘bigness’ of it and especially the dry erase board and colourful markers and i used to think you were so big and important and your office was filled with art of mine and stuff… and i guess i just started remembering all that and realizing now i’m big and i have my own dry erase board and it’s very scary and exciting.
i think that ‘bring your daughter to work day’ really paid off, even if i was embarrassed to tell my schoolmates where i had been because no one else’s parents were doing that stuff.

just thought i’d let you know.”

It's wrong…

It’s wrong to speak about people in Hebrew when you’re next to them and know they don’t understand.
It’s wrong to speak about people in Hebrew when you’re next to them and know they don’t understand.
It’s wrong to speak about people in Hebrew when you’re next to them and know they don’t understand.
It’s wrong to speak about people in Hebrew when you’re next to them and know they don’t understand.
It’s wrong to speak about people in Hebrew when you’re next to them and know they don’t understand.

A New York love affair.

I lapped up New York City over the weekend; my pupils are shaped like hearts, like in cartoons, because I’m back together with an old love I left behind.

It started with shopping, obviously. It continued with a foray into the Upper West Side for Shabbat (not too unlike Katamon in quality; but that’s where my friends are so that’s where I go). Saturday night consisted of drinking pretty drinks and laughing.

Sunday night I went to a big ole fancy American dream wedding of friends from college. I felt some culture shock and nostalgia. The wedding was pretty much the opposite of what mine was. I guess most weddings I’d go to in America will be anyway.

The transportation (my brother’s Bonneville) to the wedding (in Long Island) lead me through all five boroughs. I love when that happens: You take a trip somewhere in the city and it leads you all over the place – from the SI Expressway to the NJ Turnpike, George Washington Bridge, Lincoln Tunnel… West Side Highway, Cross Bronx, Brooklyn Bridge, Belt Parkway, Gowanus ExpresswayVerrazano Bridge… And especially at 2 am, visiting your old haunts feels so good, even if those haunts are highways where you’ve spent a total of probably years of your life sitting in traffic.

This time around, the love affair will be a month long; I’m staying in NYC until the end of the holiday season (Succot).

I feel that Billy Joel would be proud.

'Curity, here and there.

After 3 flights in 2 (calendar) days, there are some observations you just can’t miss; with help from a frequent flier, here is what I learned about airport security:

Americans: Search your stuff.
Israelis: Search your eyes.

Americans: Use a logicless measure for discerning (born of disorganized fear).
Israelis: Use psychology and profiling.

Americans: Check if you’re carrying nail clippers or toothpaste.
Israelis: Check if you’re a terrorist.

Homecoming (3).

I’m sitting in the Houston Hobby Airport bar and it occurs to me that currently, I am in a very different world.

There’s college football on TV.
Two guys are doing work on their PDAs.
Everyone is drinking beer.
The bartender is a he-she.
The beer on tap is… Budweiser.