Imagining the Future is a kind of Nostalgia

(The title of today's blogpost is not from my head, but from author John Green's head, or more specifically his wife's head apparently.)

The following are the thoughts I scribbled in my notebook as I sat by the beach for the last time today:

As I was walking down Arlozorov Street, I was thinking of StarKid, this musical theater production company that put on a Very Potter Musical, A Very Potter Sequel, Me and My Dick, and just recently, Starship.  StarKid is a group of college friends that started this production company together in L.A. (or Chicago?  Must check which one, I have heard both).  I was thinking how freaking awesome it was that this group of normal, non-celebrity type performers had enough determination to procure the resources and means to do something this cool on their own.  Then it occured to me that being given the opportunity to do something on your own is sort of what Walkabout is for.  I had a little moment of self-satisfaction as I walked down Arlozorov in the stifling Israeli heat, full after eating a falafel pita alongside Ayelet at the Berensteins' store, because I felt that I was just as cool as the StarKid people.  (The fact that I believe a group of nerdy theater kids who wrote a very smart, witty musical paroding Harry Potter, one of my favorite book series, and are now continuing to write such silly musicals as Me and My Dick (all about high school romances) and Starship (hero is Bug from BugWorld) should say something about my definition of the word 'cool'.)

I realized the difference between myself and people like the StarKid production company is that while I certainly take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way, these guys make their own opportunities.  And maybe I do that to some extent, but I think what this entire Walkabout experience has taught me - CCT included - is that awesome things and meaningful experiences exist in the universe, but it's up to me to make/take the opportunities to discover them.

I used to believe that when it came to helping people less fortunate than myself, if I had the ability to help, I had the responsibility to help.  Now I believe that about increasing the awesome in the world.  If I CAN create, then I SHOULD create.  I think what I would regret the most about my life at the end of it is if I looked back at all the times I could have been doing something really cool and awesome to help people (directly or indirectly) and instead found that I had wasted my time caring about things that didn't matter, or sat on my butt wasting my life on Facebook.

Currently I am sitting on a bench just outside the sand of the beach.  I am listening to the most appropriate song for the sea: "Haiti" by Arcade Fire.  It's 3:21 in the afternoon.  Soon, I'll be going back home to Ramat Gan to finish packing.  Soon, but not now.

I will miss my freedom and I will miss this country, as warped and twisted and contradictory as it is.  I am ready to go home now, but I know my love affair with Israel is far from over.

"Haiti" by Arcade Fire 
Your Gateway into the Magical World of StarKid 

My Last Camera Party

Three days.  Here are some pictures you haven't seen before.

One of my favorite winter pictures.  Moda'in.

Nicole, one of the students at La Escuelita, puts on lipstick for Purim.  Tel Aviv.

Lod.

Danielle, one of the part-time volunteers for Sadaka, is running a theater workshop with Ro'ee (not pictured).  Bat Yam.

One of the students in the theater workshop.  Bat Yam.

One of the students in the theater workshop.  Bat Yam.

Yotam leads his critical thinking/writing workshop.  Bat Yam.

Diran and Samer at the youth group meeting for Sadaka.  Yafo.

Yafo.

A monster and Ortal.  Kfar Saba.

Someone who manages to transform any picture into a hideous nightmare and the always beautiful Ortal.  Kfar Saba.

The view from Rina and Avraham's apartment, where I stayed during Passover.  Ashkelon.

Rina, my adopted grandmother person.  Ashkelon.

A neighborhood in which religious Jews are given permission to evict the Arabs that live there.  Jerusalem.

A wider shot of a previous photo.  The Negev.

I climbed that.  All of that.  And you can't see how far down it goes.  But it goes down pretty far.  The Negev.

 

What?

I awoke this morning to a siren going off.  Today is Holocaust Day in Israel, and the day is dedicated to remembering the Holocaust and holding ceremonies and memorials for it.  The siren is supposed to stop whatever everyone's doing and stand all together as a country for a moment of silence.

Outside the apartment window, however, the construction raged on.  I have a feeling this is because most of the construction workers are Arab.

I think days like these are important especially for younger kids so that the significance and terror of the event is never lost on incoming generations.  Holocaust Day is followed by Memorial Day and then Independence Day in Israel.  Memorial Day and Independence Day are next week, though, so I won't be here for those events.  Because Israel is such a smaller country with such a bloodier history and a very real sense of brotherhood, Memorial Day here means a lot more than Memorial Day does in the States.  I mean, Memorial Day for us is a chance to have sales at Macy's.  Here in Israel two sirens go off - one in the morning and one in the evening, and everyone is supposed to just stop what they're doing, even if they're driving.  I know there are ceremonies in the States especially among veterans, but it's nothing that wide-spread.

In other news, I'm leaving in less than five days.  Every time I think about leaving I grow more and more anxious.  Maybe it's because of all the flight stuff (can I check in the night before in an international flight?  How early should I get to the airport?  I know I am leaving on my Israeli passport, but what if they stop me because of army crap?  I can't leave on my American, but they'll know I am American when they start jammering away in Hebrew and I only catch about 80% of it), or maybe it's because I have been here for so long that it's almost inconceivable for me to be leaving.

Yesterday I went to the supermarket to buy ingredients for the dinner I was making for my Uncle people.  I always check out with the same Russian woman every time I go to that market, and yesterday I found out her name was Svetlana.  Goodbye, Svetlana.

Maybe a part of me doesn't want this trip to be over, and maybe a part of me is really excited that it is coming to an end.  Alon thinks that I am mixing my excitement to be going home with the pool of anxiety I always have at my disposal.  He's probably right.  Yesterday he was explaining to his niece that whenever I'm in a transitional phase, I get really anxious.  I thought it was really hilarious that he knew that.  He should have - I've stayed with him and Udi for the past two and a half months, and during those months I have gone through several transitional phases.

I am feeling some of the same emotions as I did the first couple days I was here - panicky, on edge, hyper aware of the differences between me and the people around me.  I guess these emotions are now stemming from different places.  I'm panicky because I'm about to pack a huge chunk of my life away into my suitcases, board a plane, and have it be over.  I'm on edge because when I get home...what will I do?  Like, I already have plans for the day I get back to spend time with my family and my friends, but...how am I going to spend my time?  It'll be the same strange experience as when I got here - everyone already has their schedule, and I'll have to readjust to find mine.  On the last note, I guess now I'm more hyper aware of the similarities of the people around me and myself.  I hope when I get to baggage claim in Columbus I'm not super pushy like the Israelis have taught me to be.  Yesterday I was on the bus and sitting in the aisle seat while the window seat was free, and when someone came to sit there, instead of a normal human American, I didn't scoot over to the window, I let him climb over me.  I was slightly ashamed of myself.

Today I'm taking the train into Kfar Saba one last time to say goodbye to everyone.  Because of foot injuries from magic communes, I had to change my plans a bit this weekend.  I couldn't go to Nazareth as I had planned/wanted to, but it also turned out that Diran couldn't go either, so I didn't feel so terrible.  I plan the next three days to be spent at the commune or at the Sadaka offices, and then Friday I already made Alon and Udi swear to me that in the afternoon before we leave for the airport, we're going to watch A Town Called Panic, that silly French movie that Amy showed us in her class this past semester.  As I was describing the movie, I talked about how surprised Amy and the rest of the class was when we were watching it, and I felt like classes at Graham (I have literally forgotten all my French, which is promising) was so disconnected from where I was then.  I mean, standing in the doorway of my Uncle people's room, explaining the premise of the movie to Alon, in Ramat Gan, which is East of Tel Aviv, which is on the shore of Israel, which is a Middle Eastern country on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea, which is south of Europe, which is East of America - I felt like thinking of the amber-lit French room at Graham was like thinking into a past life.  It's going to be so weird to go back.

I guess that's what I'm most anxious about.  I am sooooooooooooooooo excited to see my parents and my brother and my friends again, but what I'm most afraid of is trying to adjust to the two separate lives I have experienced this year.  I know that presenting the Walkabout to the students and the parents and all of the process of graduating will bring it together a bit more in my mind, but right now they're so separate.  If it wasn't for journaling, I would think I had already graduated.

I had put a jazz CD on while I made my coffee this morning, and the song that just came on is Mood Indigo by Duke Ellington's band.  It's such a soothing song and I feel like it came on at just the right time.  (Seriously - in a tizzy?  Listen to Mood Indigo.)

Yotam asked me yesterday, "What are you going to do on your last few days here in the country?" and I said, "Not think about the fact that it's my last few days in the country lest I dissolve into a puddle of anxiety attack."  I may have scared him, I don't know.

My next blog post will be much more frenzied, as it will be on Thursday, the night before I'm leaving.  I can't wait to see everyone again.