That guy in the back of the church who never claps to the beat . . .

I could live without it, you know. All this fame. All this scrutiny. All this condemnation and threat and cameras and political commentary and social commentary and worrying about your friends and loved ones and calling just to ask if someone is ok and slow songs on the radio and traffic jams because cars have been directed away from an attempted bombing and . . . all of you worrying.

And myself worrying. Yes, that too. I could live without that.

I have had a few pleas to “come home.”
“If it gets really bad, you have to come home.”
“If you need to, don’t worry about the cost, just buy a ticket, get on a plane and leave.”
“Where are you? Not in Haifa, right?”
“Where are you? I hope it’s not Tel Aviv because Hizbollah has rockets that will reach there.”
“Where are you? Are you back to Jerusalem (where it’s safe?!?)?”

The easiest way for me to convey what I am feeling now is to say that my rhythm is off. I was walking around Hebrew University last Tuesday, and it seems that the architects who designed the otherwise beautiful (if extremely confusing) campus had legs of abnormal lengths. There are several staircases on the campus grounds that make you wonder, “Do I take two steps or one on every step?” And then I thought about the steps—they don’t seem to have a problem. They are built perfectly fine. But, then again, so am I. The old saying, “Marching to the beat of a different drum” comes to my mind. I see a picture in my head of a man wearing suspenders sitting in the last pew of the church clapping to the gospel song being sung . . . except his claps always come between everyone else's. The rhythm, to put it bluntly, is off.

Last week, it was the university steps and the idea seemed lighter to me--like the suspendered man. Now, it strikes me as heavier. Why? Because it is life. Perhaps the dissonance I felt in the steps was a premonition for the violence that would erupt in less than 48 hours; perhaps a foreboding of the awful rhythm of life that would be created by it. People are coping, but they are acting strangely—even all of us here in safe Jerusalem. We are not being bombarded by thousands of katushya rockets. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. But life—which was previously lived to a rhythm of falafel and avoiding traffic accidents—now follows the metronome of hourly radio newscasts that bring us news of more fear, more danger, and more injuries.

I’m not scared. Israelis have never been under the impression that “all is clear”, that there aren’t more than a few people who would rather we not be here. But I’m sad. I’m so . . . sad. It seems like the goals I have in my life—to create and promote positive interactions and peace, to have an open mind towards other cultures, tikkun olam (making the world a better place) in short—have no chance in a world with people like those in Hamas and Hizbollah.

I don’t want you all to be scared, to think that I walk to work through a trench lined with barbed-wire. I’m ok. And, statistically, the chance that I won’t be is very small. I cannot imagine what all of you are feeling when you read and see the news. I know what it is like—how CNN, Fox, and ABC portray what Israel is like/not-like/doesn’t like/etc. It’s not so long ago that I lived in the America. But I didn’t have a loved one here. If I were there now, in America, I would. I would worry as much as, if not more than, I did when Hurricane Katrina hit the US and I wasn’t there to see with my own eyes that my family was allright.

I’m wondering, with the “current situation” (as Israelis like to say), if my career as a comedic writer is over. I hope not. Actually . . . I know it’s not. Things will get better. When and how remains to be seen, but they will get better. And there will always be a need for jokes about backwards clothes, doctors who sing Disney theme-songs while operating, and the never-ending antics of Becky Feinberg.


Also, I know it’s no man missing teeth talking about how it was to ride through the tornado in a trailer . . . but I was on the news. Well, it wasn’t actually me—it was my house. Well, it wasn’t exactly my house, but it was my intersection. And it didn’t actually happen in my intersection, but for that, I’m grateful.
http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?cid=1150886023917&pagename=JPost%2FJPArticle%2FShowFull (Please note, that I am just using this link so you can see where I live—the article does not go with the picture, so trust me on this one--and remember, the news always presents what it wants you to think! The attempted bomber was caught further away.)

Kris Kross Will Make You . . .

I think I just realized what this whole blog thing is about--to whine and complain. Oh, sorry, that's just what most people do on their blogs (and at home, and at work, and in the supermarket line, and . . .the list goes on). I've managed to keep it under control this last year and half since I started my blog and perhaps to a lesser extent since I moved to Israel. Perhaps it's my naturally sunny (read: denial-focused) nature that allows me to be so positive.

In any case, since I haven't written in a while, I thought I would tell you about some of the nice things going on in my life.

1) Today, one year after receiving the skirt I am currently wearing, I am finally wearing it correctly. That is to say, I received a hand-me-down skirt one year ago and have been wearing it backwards (proudly, I must mention) without realizing it. When it was first pointed out to me a week ago that I was indeed wearing it backwards, I said to myself, "I am such a dolt!" (I didn't actually say this of course, because I am not really sure what the word dolt means, and not wanting to be a true dolt, I just thought it) But then, my positive nature taking over, I thought, "But I've received so many compliments on this skirt." And that is when I realized that maybe we're all a little turned around in our lives, and I was the only one expressing it outwardly. Who knows? Perhaps I'll start a self-awareness fashion trend.

2) I finished my first Hebrew novel, "Arba-ah Batim v'Ga-a-guah" (translated something like, "Four Houses and Longing"). Now that deserves a party--a big one--with LOTS of people wearing backwards clothes. To celebrate, I bought Amos Oz's "A Tale of Love and Darkness" (in Hebrew). Don't worry, by the time I finish this one, we'll all be living on different planets in the galaxy drinking moon juice and I won't expect you to come to the party.

3) I'm finally going to start my master's degree this fall. That is exciting. Three years after finishing my first degree (Israeli English for "Bachelor's"), I am going to delve into the world of academia once again. Let's hope I can handle it. Let's hope they can handle me! After a bit of confusion, I WILL be pursuing my MA in Political Science. The degree is in a specific track called "Democracy and Citizenship Studies." One day, with a lot of effort, a little luck, and a lot of Cheetos, I will be Becky Feinberg M.A. I guess it's just not the same when it's an "A" instead of a "D".

Other than that, I'm still dating my wonderful, patient, funny (because he understands my jokes! finally someone understands my jokes!), and sweet boyfriend, Nadav. We, G-d willing, will be visiting the Redneck Riviera (I say this with the utmost respect and longing for my beloved birthplace) at the beginning of October. If you are in the neighborhood, we will meet up. I'll be the one wearing the backwards skirt.

(If you somehow missed the giant rap duo of the early 90's, Kris Kross, please note that they wore their clothes backwards--that is about the extent of their talent)