What is a car to you? Is it a means of transportation? A status symbol? Something that makes you free and independent? Your profession? Your second home? A hobby?
I guess there are many answers to this question and for most people it’s a mix of things.
My last car, a Suzuki Swift 2009, was not just a metal box with engine and wheels. She was a true friend. I had to say goodbye to her last week and I felt like I was parting with a person.
I remembered the times when she was waiting for me in the parking lot after a long day of work. How she’d blink at me, as if saying “Hey, I’ve been waiting all day, let’s go home!”.
And the trip to the north we went to last winter, to see the snow.
And the time when I moved to my last apartment after my boyfriend and I broke up and she helped me inflate a mattress at 1 o’clock at night, so that I’d have something to sleep on.
And all the stuff she helped me move.
All the extra small spaces we managed to push ourselves into, when there was no normal parking.
And all the songs we listened to together…
Goodbye Swifty. Thank you for always being there for me. I hope that your new friend takes good care of you.
They’re building a new mall, two blocks away from where I live. One day I decided to park my car nearby and have a look. What I saw made me snigger and I decided to take this photo. Can you see what it is? Well, I’m sure that the designer didn’t mean to express any criticism against the consumer culture, but it seems like the fork is actually chasing the guy! He’s running for his life! Is it just me? How come no one else noticed?
Sometimes I’m happy that I’m paying attention to details, specifically mistakes. It can be a virtue. It helped me in my studies, it’s very useful at work. But it’s not always such a blessing. Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t notice, like in the case of the scary fork. Other people come to the mall, they wander from one shop to another, they have other things to think about. When I come to the mall, all I’m able to think about is this disturbing image.
There’s another downside to noticing errors – it might make you judgemental. If we stick to the example above, my respect to the people who built this mall is not the highest. And I don’t even know them! It’s not just towards other people. When I make mistakes, even typos, I’m being hard on myself. It doesn’t have to be this way. I should have learned by now that everyone makes mistakes and it’s okay – to err is human.
It’s time for me to air these old fixations and go have some coffee in the brand new mall…
I went to my cousin’s wedding a couple of days ago. She is two years younger than me and the whole family was there, so you can imagine the questioning eyes around me – “Well, dear, what about you?”. I couldn’t care less about their remarks, but they did bring up a few thoughts.
Like many other girls, I grew up weeping at movies like “Titanic”, watching love winning over everything else in the 1996 version of “Romeo and Juliet”, unable to wipe off my smile watching “Notting Hill” for the 17th time at a sleepover. I heard tales and stories which ended with the eternal phrase – “they lived happily ever after”. No wonder, that as a little girl, I believed there was a prince, growing up somewhere in the world, dreaming of me. I thought that when the right day would come, we’d definitely meet. And there would be sparks and fireworks. And I’d know for sure that he’s the one. Well, you can’t blame me. A white horse is quite a rare sight, so no chance I’d miss him…
Years passed by. I grew up. I learned that the world was not a fairy tale. I stopped believing in princes. I was amazed by how far reality was from the illusion and how practical and cynical the world was. I became an adult.
I had some very good relationships. I truly loved people. I grew aware of my own advantages and disadvantages. I gained better judgment of people. I understood that you have to work to make good things last. But all these relationships ended eventually. I got disappointed, this time from the practical version of “happily ever after”. I started thinking maybe it just wasn’t for me. And when I went to weddings and aunts asked me those questions, I felt like they can’t wait to watch me grow up and make my compromises, just like they did. Just like everyone else.
The funny thing is – life has a way to surprise you when you least expect it. A split second before I stopped believing at anything at all, we finally found each other. And though he walked out of a white car instead of getting off a horse, I just knew it was him. And I have to tell you, it was worth waiting for…
I took this photo while strolling in Tel Aviv on a typical Friday. I just couldn’t resist it. It seemed so ironic to me, this beheaded lady, wearing the best of this summer’s fashion. I also looked at other young ladies around me, jiggling and talking non-stop.
They sit down at the coffee shop, while comparing their insights on the dress in the window and the shoes they bought the other day. They share the latest bits of gossip about the trainer at the gym, their other friend’s husband, the waitress. After resting a bit they are up on their feet for another round of shopping. There’s a great sale at Zara they can’t possibly miss… One of them apologizes – she has to rush off to pick up the kid. She also has some cooking to do for Sabbath. The other one has another phone call, fifth in a row. But they don’t leave the mall until they fix their make-up in the ladies’ room. They exchange a few last words on how fabulously the new tone of the make-up from the new department store suits them and how cheap it is compared to the previous one.
They finally leave, carrying what seems like dozens of bags and I wake up from my day-dream.
You probably figured out already, from the unbiased and highly objective description above – I wouldn’t want that kind of life for myself. But looking at them, it sometimes seems to me that the real wisdom might be in enjoying the simple things in life. I keep forgetting that. I keep thinking and analyzing and looking for things that apparently do not exist instead of living the moment. Maybe I should hang a copy of this photo in my room, it will definitely remind me to lighten up. 🙂
Yeah, I know it sounds funny to most of you… we are all used to thinking of Herzl when we hear the word congress. Well, there was nothing boring about this historical event. 😉
It started on April 22nd and lasted three days. I went there with my sister, who is a better dancer than I am, by the way.
We had a great time. I have been thinking about the proper way to describe it ever since and I finally decided to just throw words at you 🙂
Long drive. Coffee at the gas station. Arava road. Eilat. Bracelet. Hotel. Weekend. Hot. Shoes. Vacation. Sun. Pool. People. Bikini. DJ. Cyprus. Music. Beat. Cold soda. Cold beer. Dancing. Night. Dress. Band. Shows. Brasil. Dancing. Stalker. Book. Pizza. New Swing Sextet. LA. Dancing. Breakfast. Lessons. Columbia. People. Spanish. Axe. Lady style. Rumba. Dancing. Smiles. Goodbyes. Falafel in Beer Sheva. Long drive. Sore feet. Memories.
I went to see the Doors (short for “Hadlatot Niftachot BeAtzman”) with my mom the other day. It was great, as always.
For those of you who don’t know the lyrics of Meir Ariel’s songs by heart, there is a song named Terminal Lominelt in which the guy walks into the terminal and the doors guess he’s there and open by themselves. This was also the name of a live show album out in 1998, the last album before Meir’s death in 1999.
Two parts in the performance that I really liked, were two great interpretations:
- “Tuk tuk tuk al daltey marom” (Meir’s version to Bob Dylan’s “Knocking on the heaven’s door”) with Hadarah, who was singing in English while Idan was doing the Hebrew part
- “Hikansi kvar la oto ve nisa” (Get into the car and let’s drive away) – the song that was rated worst song of the year on Galgalatz (ironic…) in a fresh and meaningful interpretation
I always forget everything else for a couple of hours when I go to see them. It’s a kind of therapy. The crowd is not the usual crowd you see in such places. I was also surprised to see young faces among the older ones. Seems like Meir did leave his mark on the Israeli culture…
I had my 28th birthday a week ago. I can’t say I like this number. It doesn’t look pretty in any base. I think I’ll be happier at 31 (11111).
It was a pretty fun birthday, though. 🙂 I got an unprecedented amount of calls and messages, ate a lot of chocolate, ran away from crazy people with confetti in a dark alley (love you guys) and got the most creative set of balloons ever:
(Thanks Yuval :-))
It was also the day of the drawing course, which filled my heart with joy yet again.
I’m finally giving in to this urge inside me to break free from chains like “other people are better at it, so why bother”, “what practical use is there to it”, etc. It really makes me feel free. Even though it’s still technical, I understand that you don’t necessarily have to have an extraordinary talent. You do have to have the urge to translate your emotions into something you can keep, look at, maybe even share with others (on a brand new blog page…)