On the Honey and the Beesting

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

New Title!

You'll notice that I'm no longer using the snarky title, [Insert Wildly Creative Title Here], rather, I have changed it to On the Honey and the Beesting, (al hadvash ve-al haoketz), after a popular Israeli song that I will liberally interpret as being about taking the good with the bad and sucking it up, or, the proverbial honey with the proverbial beesting. Actually, it's not really proverbial.
Lesson of the day: Something is only ever "proverbial" if it is mentioned in the Book of Proverbs. It does not mean "aforementioned/legendary". Stop using it to mean "aforementioned/legendary". You come off as dumb. If you're telling a really long story about a car that gets lost, and then at the end, your main character finds the car, he has not found the "proverbial car", because they didn't talk about any cars in the Book of Proverbs. So before you start sounding uneducated, as I did above (but then undid after I corrected myself and provided everyone with this bit of information), whip out your Bible and check your references.
Or, if you were a good Israeli and voted yesterday, Sha"s (Religious Sephardi party) supporters were handing out Sifrei Tehilim (Books of Proverbs) to those good Jews who asked.
I would be one of those good jews. Hee. Too bad for them that I can't vote, and when I did vote in the mock elections at the school where I volunteer, I voted for Meretz.

"Meretz in the Left, People in the Centre!!"
I'm such a good little party supporter.
Because Meretz gave me stickers. Also, they're rather left-wing. And they support gay marriage, which is reflected on my two free stickers. But since I also support gay marriage, the stickers are chillzin' on my wall. Along with my Chada"sh stickers which support, in Arabic and Hebrew, a Jewish-Arab party.
The moral of the story: My love is totally for sale. Stickers are preferable to religious items.

Regardless, Meretz did not manage to get many seats, and Sha"s whupped them good.
Oh well. Next time.

A full update on my Israeli Elections experience will be posted shortly, but my caffeine levels are tapering off and so is, therefore, my attention span.

"Olmert: Nyet
Peretz: Nyet
Lieberman: Da
Nyet, Nyet, Da!"

(See? I'm totally fluent in Russian...)
-J

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Why I shouldn't have caffeine after the sun has gone down

Okay, so when i was younger, like as in, before I left home for University (or as the American relatives call it, College, except, right. I got into University? So, um, yeah. ), my mom had this rule that I wasn't allowed to have coffee after 4 pm. And I never really understood that rule until now, because I stopped at Cafein (aptly named) and now I'm freaking wired.

And I have to get up at 7:15 tomorrow morning, or rather, in six hours, to go to volunteering. Which has gotten rather stressful because the person I'm shadowing seems to have forgotten that I volunteer and now thinks that I get paid to show up or something, as made obvious when she calls me at 9:30 in the morning on wednesdays to ask why the hell I'm not at the school yet because someone is doing work on her computer and she needs the disc that she lent me right away, whereupon I have to get up, in the middle of Hebrew class, fire off some lame excuse, grab a taxi to race to the school, only to find that it's just a computer technician updating her computer and he would appreciate the disc so that he could reinstall the program which, by the way, is something that I could have done on my own at noon, which is when I usually get to the school, which is something she would know if, instead of yelling at me for not coming in the morning, which I never do, she noticed that I always come on wednesdays at noon, so it's not like i've ever set a precedent for coming before noon, because i have school until then, and holy crap, instead of yelling at me, get a freaking clue.

In other news, when I was last in Toronto, a cousin of mine who spent a year in Israel and who also wrote a blog about it, mentioned how my blog is diametrically opposite from her own. Mainly because hers is all Israel-Fuzzy-Bunnies and mine is all Israel-Holy-Jesus-I'm-Tweaking-Out-In-This-ADD-Travesty-Of-A-Country. For example: (and I shall hilite the relevant portions of comparison) (and yes, you can spell it 'hilite')
Israel-Fuzzy-Bunnies: So, a bunch of us decided that we wanted to go to Tel Aviv for a couple of days after Yom Kippur, before Sukkot. It was SO much fun!! here are some of the cool moments and good times: paddle boating on the yarkon with Jen and Amnon-so much fun! We were taking lots of pictures by the little fake lake there and enjoying the palm trees and park area that was in the middle of the city of Tel Aviv. Our funky youth hostel was quite enjoyable! We stumbled upon fun Hindi pictures and decorations and enjoyed the lockers in the room.
Israel-Holy-Jesus-I'm-Tweaking-Out: You know that Israel is still a 'developing country' when they get a little inclement weather and the radio reception freaks the hell out. And for the love of all that's good and holy, someone needs to take Israeli women aside and teach them how to pee like civilized people and not, say, all over the seat and on the floor. Like, they're given guns at 18, shouldn't they know how to aim already? That's a scary thought. If their urinary habits are any reflection on their shooting ability, then it's no wonder that Amnesty International is all up in our faces.
Summary: My cousin's Israel is so much fun (Exclamation point! Another one!) , whereas my Israel needs to take a Ritalin.

But anyways, I decided to write a few fuzzy bunnies about Israel, just so people don't think I'm completely bitter and unloving. I'm Zionist-WHAT, okay? Ain't nobody more Zionist than me.

Israeli Fuzzy Bunnies:
-I love that I can go to the beach every day to a)do my homework (riiiiiight...) b)get a tan c)get picked up by men ages 18-60 d)chillz out and e) to be able to say 'so i went to the beach every day for three months straight' and make all my pasty-white-it's-called-vitamin-D-friends back home wicked jealous .

-I love that my university student union has a concert (with moderately to rather famous singers/bands) every wednesday at noon, so that even though classes are scheduled for that time anyways, they basically have to cancel them wednesdays at noon cause of the concerts. And I love that a good reason for cancelling class is 'dude. we got let out early cause of the concert'. Because a concert should totally be a valid reason.

-I love that the student union serves free Goldstar beer at the aforementioned concerts.

-I love how all the readings for the regular Israeli classes are in English so that I have an advantage in my "Introduction to Semitic Linguistics" class.

-I love how the falafel/shawarma lady in the Carmel Centre remembers that I like pickles packed in a separate bag, and how she sticks in a few pickled cauliflowers for good measure.

-I love how the barista guy at Cafein knows how I like my coffee. And how they have 'free samples' of their coffee-chocolates, and how the free samples are the size of two-dollar-coins and are white-chocolate-chocolate. And how I put like four circles of free chocolate in my coffee. And take seven more for the road. Mmmmm.

-I love how Israelis think their country is so huge and that it's such a pain to travel anywhere, but how for me, getting from Haifa to Jerusalem is just like driving to downtown Toronto in really bad traffic, except I don't have to tweak out, because I just bought an overpriced book at the bookstore at the Central Bus Station and I'm not the one driving.

-I love how I'm going to a Kelly Clarkson concert in Tel Aviv next weekend because her guitarist is Israeli and how I'm going to sing "Behind these Hazel Eyes" all the way to Tel Aviv on the train and probably be surrounded by screaming 14 year olds, but how I don't care because oh my god, Kelly Clarkson!!!

-I love how people in this country are raised on Bamba and actually think that it tastes good and not in fact like peanut covered feces.

-I love how a centimetre of snow shuts down cities and brings out army bulldozers to clear the roads, because shovels, what's that?

-I love the artists' market in Tel Aviv because I want to buy everything that they sell. Everything. Gorgeous.

-I love how dark jeans and a clean t-shirt is a completely acceptable outfit to wear at any function which would be black-tie-no-options in North America.

-I love getting conflicting and unsolicited philosophies of life from taxi drivers. Which helps to remind me why I don't want to be a taxi driver. Because then I would need a philosophy of life which goes beyond "I guess I'll marry rich and be barefoot and pregnant for the next twenty years", which wouldn't work out if I was a taxi driver, because I can't really drive barefoot. And if I was sandaled and pregnant, then I would totally be violating my philosophy of life, and I think there's like a rule against that in the taxi driver's handbook. Right under the rule that says that "You are Mario Andretti, and we will point and laugh at you if you drive under 100 km an hour and stop for stupid things like red lights."

-I love the people who go to clubs and wear their sunglasses inside. At two in the morning. When it's dark in the club. And who pop their collars. And who's friends tell them to unpop their collars cause it looks stupid while saying nothing about the sunglasses.

-I love how one can buy alcohol at the gas-station/supermarket/convenience store and rent porn from the Rent-A-DVD machines at the mall. Not that I've done either, because it just seems so white-trash and tacky, and I don't think I can get over the feelings that the gas-station/supermarket/convenience store alcohol screams 12 Step Program and how Rent-A-DVD machines are crawling with venereal diseases. But I love how the option is there for when I'm comfortable with it.

-I love how the security guard at the mall will determine that I am not armed and/or dangerous by lifting my purse for thirty nanoseconds with the palm of his hand and ignoring the metal detector wand when it beeps on my back. And I'm not actually sure why it beeps there. I think I have metal studs in my jeans. Regardless, they go ignored

-I love how post-army Israelis have to go 'find themselves' in India or Thailand. Cause, it's not like there's any spirituality in Israel or anything. I also love how after they land in India or Thailand, they seek out other Israelis. And only chillz with them. And by chillz, i mean 'do massive amounts of drugs'. And then come back and go to Yoga class and eat Pad Thai because now they're all cultured and worldly and stuff.


[fin]


That is all for now. There will probably not be any more passive-aggressive fuzzy bunnies for a while, because while it's been fun, I'm more of an actively-aggressive kind of person. But we'll see.
Goodnight.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Marks Update

0109.2140 ENGLISH SEMANTICS
Lecturer: Dr. G. ZUCKERMANN
Weekly hours: 4 Credits: 4
Number grade: 95

New Total Fall 2005 Average: 97.25

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Marks

Did you know that apparently, what I've been calling "marks" is a Canadian thing, because Americans call them "grades"?
Stupid Americans.

Goldberg Jessica S G
Social Security: # Hah! You think I'd post that?
Passport#: See above snide comment
Fall 2005
Haifa U.
0109.2015 LEXICOLOGY AND LEXICOGRAPHY
Lecturer: Dr. G. ZUCKERMANN
Weekly hours: 4 Credits: 4
Number Grade: 100
0109.2140 ENGLISH SEMANTICS
Lecturer: Dr. G. ZUCKERMANN
Weekly hours: 4 Credits: 4
Number Grade: 91
0109.221 MORPHOLOGY
Lecturer: Dr. W. SANDLER
Weekly hours: 4 Credits: 4
Number Grade: 96
0702.3003 HEBREW LANGUAGE-ADVANCED 3
Lecturer: Mrs. M BEN-MEIR
Weekly hours: 8 Credits: 6
Number Grade: 98
************************************************
Hah!!
Suck on that!

Love,
J Whose Eternal Brilliance Shines Like the Morning Star With Whom She Shares a Close Resemblance in Splendor if not also in Glory and Magnitude.

Monday, March 06, 2006

This is what happens when Spoken Arabic gets cancelled

Actually, it's more like what happens when we wait for half an hour at Spoken Arabic, and then the teacher doesn't show up, and then the library printers only print half of the readings that I need to do by...July.

(Ew, I'm totally a real blog now...)

[A] :: Accent: Canadian
[B] :: Breakfast Item: Toast and/or fried eggs.
[C] :: Chore You Hate: laundry. Because the machines hate me. Also, the kittens that use the laundry room as their personal powder room just gross me out. It's like, "aw, aren't you fluffy? and covered with diseases? I shall name you Toxoplasmosis*, and I will love you and squeeze you forever and ever..."

*you know, toxoplasmosis? What people can pick up from cats? Google it. It's what has probably been making me sick since there's cat guano all over the damn place, and in the air vents since they've found a hole in the laundry room ceiling and in the main building you can hear them in the walls, and my god, that's got to be a health hazard. *

[D] :: Deli Meat: Gross. Moooooooooooooooooooo.
[E] :: Essential Everyday Item: My buspass. And credit card.
[F] :: Flavour Ice Cream: Chocolate chip cookie dough. Only, if it was just the cookie dough, that would be okay too. In fact, if it was a tube of cookie dough, and a spoon, and maybe a can or two of whipped cream, that would be just perfect
[G] :: Gold or Silver?: Silver. Gold is so eighties.
[H] :: Hometown: Thornhill
[I] :: Intelligence: Lots of it.
[J] :: Job Title: None. I want a work permit. Then I will work at Aroma and take over the coffee-drinking world. Yes...excellent...
[K] :: Kids: God forbid. After being a camp counselor for 12 thirteen year old girls, I want my tubes tied. Call me in 5 years.
[L] :: Living Arrangements: Single-room Talia Dorms at Haifa University. Replete with Toxoplasmosis.
[M] :: Motto: It's not easy being green.
[N] :: Number of Significant Others: Yeah, totally macking it up in the Holy Land.
[O] :: Overnight Hospital Stays: Almost one yesterday, but as of this moment, none.
[P] :: Phobia: Needles and the witches under my bed
[Q] :: Quirks: Before I go to sleep, all the closets, drawers, and doors have to be closed and the shades have to be drawn. Otherwise, the witches will get me.
[R] :: Religious Affiliation: Jewish
[S] :: Siblings: My brother Alex...who SUCKS.
[T] :: Time You Wake Up: Too Damn Early
[U] :: Unnatural Hair Colours You've Worn: None. I'm too conventional for my own good.
[V] :: Vegetable You Refuse to Eat: Vegans
[W] :: Worst Habit: Biting my nails.
[X] :: X-rays You’ve Had: Both feet. Also, probably a ton of my teeth.
[Z] :: Zodiac Sign: Aries

Sunday, March 05, 2006

"I'm going to the hospital" and other things not to call your parents with at 3 in the morning

Another fun one not to use is "Daddy, has the warranty on Mom's car expired yet?" (when a tiny light on the dashboard indicating the temperature of the seat warmer had burned out, although dad probably thought I crashed the van into a pole. Which, given my driving history, is not all that far-fetched)

I went to Introduction to Semitic Linguistics which was awesome and cool by virtue of the fact that it is a course for Israeli students majoring in Hebrew Language and therefore, entirely in Hebrew. I followed along quite well, and only had some trouble copying down the powerpoint slides fast enough, but it's okay because the teacher sent them to me. And I even answered a question in class about the difference between a dialect and a language after an Israeli student got it wrong. And FYI, i was right. Though the fact that I momentarily forgot how to say "different" and conjugated language as masculine even though it's feminine probably gave me away as "Not An Israeli Student". But whatever. It was good times.

Anyways, since my tonsils are all "aaaaaaaah, jihad!" on me, I went to the doctor at the clinic who kind of creeps me out, but he said that since I haven't really been better in 3 months, he's sending me to an Ear/Nose/Throat guy at the hospital. So I called my parents, freaked them out (Mission: Accomplished), called my madricha to come with me, and off we went!
I even have a red hospital bracelet. Cause I'm that cool. The E/N/T guy checked out my throat and said that since I didn't have an abcess (thanks god) and I could still swallow fluids, they wouldn't have to keep me overnight. He took a throat swab, prescribed some just in case antibiotics, and sent me home.

On the way, we stopped at Super-Pharm, a huge nation-wide pharmacy owned by the same company who owns Shopper's Drug Mart in Canada, and yet it is entirely possible that it is run by people who were hired off the short bus. It is the only place where even if I am third/second/first in line, it will take me a minimum of half an hour to get from a)lining up to b) out the door. I lined up at the pharmacy, and sure enough, I was the third one with three pharmacists working and it still took me half an hour just to get to the front of the line, whereupon my pharmacist was apparently the only competent one behind the counter and had to help every other pharmacist while filling my prescription. I hate Super-Pharm. It's like a really bad movie starring Hilary Duff (Cadet Kelly, worst. show. ever.) on the Family Channel that you want to turn off but are somehow strangely attracted to watching again and again, always asking yourself afterwards "Why? Why?" in a strangled voice. Strangled, much like the state of being you would like to inflict upon the idiot staff who don't seem to know how to do their jobs even though they're wearing those spiffy ties which to me indicate that they "get stuff done". If they're going to be slow, they should lose the ties, unbutton a couple of buttons, untuck the shirt, and get some big gold chains. Ghetto-bling.

The moral of the story is, my throat is beginning to feel better and I need sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

You know you missed me

Before I apologize for not having updated in a month and a half, let me just explain that this post might be slightly...colored by the fact that I am currently coked out of my skull on Tylenol.

Which by the way, is completely useless when my tonsils are bleeding. Again. Actually, I think I never really got over the original infection back in December. The penicillin knocks it out for a while and then it realizes, "Hey, we're in a country which is a forerunner in the race for Who Can Use Their Antibiotics In The Stupidest Way Possible By Not Completing the 10-Day Course But Rather As Soon As We Begin Feeling Better We Stop Taking The Meds And Save Them For Later Because Drug Immunity, What's That?". Soon to be showing Thursdays, on Fox, 8/7 central. For such a technologically advanced society, why do Israelis have to be such dumbasses about antibiotics? Was the entire nation dropped on their head as children? Is that like a new custom to make a vast majority too stupid to actually listen to the doctor when he says "finish the damn course, even if you feel better half way through". Attn Israel: the bacteria can become a super-germ immune to whatever you stopped taking which will then infect unsuspecting foreigners who don't have immunities to your super-germs and who stay awake all night spitting up pus and mucus and blood into the sink for the third #%$^ing time this year, which is three #%$^ing times too many.

Hebrew 101: "I didn't sleep all night because I was spitting up pus and blood into the sink" in Hebrew is "לא ישנתי כי ירקתי מוגלה ודם בכיור כל הלילה ". (pronounced: lo yashanti ki yarakti muglah ve dam ba ki-or kol halayla"
Learn a new thing every day.

So for those who haven't lost their lunch at this point, here's the breakdown of events since I last posted, as far as I can remember them while on a Tylenol high.

January 30th: I write a stupidly easy Lexicology exam, for which I prepared not knowing it would be stupidly easy, and as the only native speaker of English in the class, part of me feels bad for thinking it was stupidly easy when I know the rest of the class struggles to formulate a coherent sentence on paper, but a bigger and much more influential part of me feels AMAZING cause I got 100% in the course, bitches! Sweet.
January 31st: I skipped the Semantics exam. Fun Israeli custom! Moed Bet: (or "the second date", literally) Because Israeli men who served in the army are often called for reserve duty, or miluim, even though they may be in university, Moed Bet was set up so that those who had miluim or other conflicts could get a chance to write the exam if the first date didn't work out. It should be mentioned that my school is nearly 50% Israeli Arab, who don't serve in the IDF and therefore aren't called for miluim, 25% Israeli Jewish women, who aren't called back for miluim (except in extremely rare cases), and 25% Israeli Jewish men, most of whom will probably never have to serve miluim. So, thanks to a marginalized minority of students, everyone is entitled to a rewrite of an exam, because they had miluim, some other conflict, or just want to improve their Moed Alef mark. Which is very nice, considering that every other university on the planet has managed to work out exam scheduling conflicts without giving the rest of the students a retake. Also, if you get a poor mark the first time, tough. You should have studied harder.
Which is why I'm going to skip ahead to February 22nd, where I took Semantics during the scheduled Moed Bet time and didn't do so hot because I was lazy and didn't study enough. Which is my own fault, which is why I'm not going to go whining to the English Department to grant me a moed gimel. I actually don't know how well I did or didn't do, because the marks aren't posted yet. But whatever.
Back to January 31st: Instead of juggling my huge over-packed suitcases on a bus then on a train to the airport, I opted to call a taxi to take me all the way to Tel Aviv. He was very punctual, which was great, except what was not great was that he took the fast route down the mountain to the highway, which involves going through the unlit back roads of Usufiyya. In the dark. At night. Unlit. Back roads.
Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy!
Girls, next time, just say no. Take the main road and suck it up.
I got to the airport, met up with Yael who was going with me to Toronto, checked in the bags after being hassled by the check in guy, who seriously needs to take a laxative. My carry on was 8 pounds overweight, and Yael's very full backpack was 8pounds under the limit. So I yanked out my heavy horrible laptop which should die a painful death because I said so, unzipped Yael's backpack, lay the laptop precariously on top of her stuff which was bursting at the seams, and the guy reweighed it. "Fine," he grunted "but don't put anything more in your carry-on".
Yeah, right. I'm going to let the laptop just chill out on top of an unzipped backpack. Cause that's totally secure. Idiot. As soon as we were out of his sight, I transferred the laptop back into my bag. And wonder of wonders, the plane didn't crash. Crazy. Who would have thought that my 8 extra pounds would threaten the security of the multi-tonne plane? Also, what happens if a passenger is like, really really fat? Are they allowed to bring a carry-on? Or does the check-in guy say "Sorry ma'am. You're just too damn fat. You can only pack the carry-on if you let us saw off one of your limbs. But we here at El-Al are into customer service, so you can pick the limb. And now don't you go trying to repack that limb! We'll know".
The plane was less than stellar, even though they had real live silverware, which was awesome. It was one of those old planes, with the tv screen way up at the front, while we were way up in the back (way down in the back?), behind a man who apparently always reads his newspaper while holding his arms straight out and then lifting them 45 degrees upwards so that it just blocks my view of the onflight movies, which were crap, anyways.
Thank god I like airplane food.
February 1st-15th: I chilled out in Toronto, had massive amounts of Chinese food, went to Emma's batmitzvah, went shopping, y'all, went to Kingston and signed an apartment with Rohini and Alex S, (It's gorgeous. I love it. Nothing bad can be said about my gorgeous loveable apartment. So shut up) and flew back to Israel.
February 18th: I took the Hebrew placement test...again. They don't change it, so I remembered most of it from way back in September. I tried meeting the new people, but it should be easier once it's beach weather and we can all chillz in bathing suits and get to know eachother better while soaking up the carcinogenics in the form of UV rays and beer. Beer is probably a carcinogenic. It should be, anyways.
February 22nd: Disastrous Semantics exam. Oy.
February 28th: I didn't take the Morphology in Moed Aleph, because I was in Toronto, but I went to check the grades on the English Department bulletin board, to gauge how difficult the exam (which I would be taking March 2nd) might be. Everyone who is registered for the course is posted, whether or not they wrote the first exam. Except apparently for me. Which means that I would not have been allowed to write the second exam. I frantically called the departmental secretary, explained the situation, and waited on pins and needles while she typed stuff into the computer. At first, she was convinced that I was not registered for the course, which was wrong, because a month ago i dragged my paranoid self to the English department to make sure that I was registered for all my courses and sure enough, a month ago I was registered. She checked again, and it turns out that yes, I was registered for the course, but since my name is last on the list, and therefore on the second page of the attendance sheet, the teacher forgot to submit page two, leaving me unregistered for the exam.
Awesome. Two days to go to the exam, and it is by complete dumb luck that I happen to bring it to their attention that I really have to get exam-registered so I can just get it over with.
Why does everything have to be such a three-ring circus in this country? Can't we just work stuff out efficiently? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh.
March 2nd: I wrote the Morphology exam, thank God, and I think I did okay, but I'll know only as soon as the marks are posted sometime later this week.
March 3rd: I went to Jerusalem to visit with cousins. I had a nice shabbat dinner, went out with Michal and her friends, and went to bed at a wonderfully unseemly hour. Saturday, I went to go visit Karin who was touring the Church of the Holy Sepulchre with her friends, which was great, because while I have often been outside the Church, I always seem to be too inappropriately dressed to ever have made it inside.
I still didn't make it inside. I got lost in the Arab market. Which by the way, has no cellphone reception. (which strikes me as a mild security issue, but whatever). I finally found the right way, but they had finished with the Church and gone on to the Western Wall, so I met up with Karin in the Church's courtyard and we headed out for the world's most expensive lunch at a restaurant outside the Jaffa market, one of the most tourist-trappy places in the world. But we were hungry. Which was surprising, considering that we walked through the butchers' district to get back to the outside of the market, where all the cows and ducks and chickens and sheep are sleeping upside down and inside out. And what I love is that right next door to the slaughtered sheep store is a yarn store. They use the whole sheep.
How very environmentally conscious! But I was too grossed out to stop for very long, because in the butchers' district, there's always wet something on the floor that you're stepping in, and if you pause for too long, you get to thinking about what the wet something actually is.
Ewwwwwwwwwwwww.

Which brings us full circle to last night, where i didn't sleep at all, because yarakti muglah vedam bakior kol halayla.

And I'm off to my first ever university course in Hebrew (Introduction to Semitic Linguistics, or Mavo La Balshanut Shemit) armed with a tape recorder and a drug-induced smile.