An Omen?

I woke up suddenly at 1:30 last night, convinced that I'd felt a spider fall from my ceiling right onto my head. I do not like spiders. They freak me out. It's all those legs. *shudder*

Half awake and horrifed, I turned on the light, and searched my bed, determined to ruthlessly crush the unwelcome intruder. There was nothing there. Then I suddenly realized what happened.

I tickled myself with my hair while sleeping.

I haven't cut my hair in just under 2 years. I knew that it was coming close to Locks of Love time again, but I've been putting it off, simply because I hate having my hair cut. Apparently, it's now so long that I roll over it in my sleep, and the ends tickle my face. Which creates the illusion, to my sleeping brain, that spiders are dropping from the ceiling onto my head.

I think *sniff!* that it's time to cut my hair.

The Embroidery Workout

I spent about two hours last night cutting fabric and creating a template for Bryan and Sarah's gift. It didn't seem like particularly strenuous activity...probably because it's not.

So why did I wake up this morning feeling sore? I can understand (somewhat) feeling a bit sore in my shoulders, as I doubt I have very good posture while bent over my work surface (aka, coffee table). But why the hell are my legs so sore?

No one ever warned me that stretching before and after was a part of taking up embroidery as a hobby.

The One Year Rule

Supposedly, we're given one year to get a new bride and groom their wedding gift. I'm not sure where this rule came from. Maybe it's linked to the notion that wedding gifts are for newlyweds, and the new couple gets to refer to themselves as newlyweds all throughout that first year. Maybe it's because it takes a new couple a whole year to get around to writing thank you notes. Regardless, I tend to take full advantage of the One Year Rule (just as I tend not to mail in my RSVP until the date by which the family wants to receive it).

My very dear friend Uri got married last Memorial Day weekend. Going to his wedding was important enough to me that it influenced my returning to the States in May, even though my ticket could have extended until mid-June. I just wouldn't have been able to forgive myself for missing his wedding by only a few weeks. I even thought out the gift beforehand, and starting making it during my last month in Jerusalem. Then again, I had no TV in that apartment, so working on his gift also served as a functional way to pass my spare time. And, since I returned to Chicago with no job, I was optimistic that I would have the present finished by the end of the summer. Three cheers for the One Year Rule!

I finished the present yesterday (now I just need to have it framed, and shipped). I've now violated the One Year Rule. And then I realized that the delay in finishing Uri's gift has also created a delay in starting Bryan and Sarah's. I have a month to go before their year is up. So I guess I better use my quiet time wisely, and get started. Since it took me approximately 48 hours worth of designing, preparation, and embroidery, I may not be very social during the next few weeks. Not counting weekends- weekends are for tomfoolery.

I may try to post a picture of the framed final product. I'm really proud of it. Now I just hope that Uri and Deb like it.

Into The (J)Dating Pool

Summer always holds the promise of new adventures. I'm not sure why that is. I associate winter with quiet walks through thick, slow-falling snowflakes, hot cocoa, and quiet Cara time. Summer, on the other hand, is for Cub games, summer sports, cute shoes, wild n'crazy Saturday nights, and general tomfoolery. When I got back from Israel last summer, I was really looking forward to those adventures, and making all sorts of new friends with whom to engage in said tomfoolery. It didn't quite happen the way I'd planned. Yet here I am, a whole year later, expecting this summer to be what last year wasn't.

So, in typical Cara-fashion, I decided to do something differently, following the age-old logic that you can't do the same thing over and over again and expect to get different results. (Sidebar: this piece of wisdom has been attributed to Mark Twain, Ben Franklin, and Albert Einstein. There's no proof that any of them ever said it, in any form.) What is this radical new change, you ask? Brace yourself...I joined JDate.

If that sound I just heard was you falling off your chair laughing, I can't be surprised. I've held out for years, adamantly refusing to join the ranks of the JDaters. I caved. Sort of- I'm not expecting to find true love over the internet. I'm really just hoping to meet people that I wouldn't have otherwise met. Maybe a few of them will turn out to be cool people. If not, bad dates make great stories, and my married/committed friends do look to me to provide them with entertaining stories of Singledom. Besides, if nothing pans out with any of the other JDaters, I at least know that I tried something new, and didn't sit at home twiddling my thumbs (or, more likely, wielding an embroidery needle, reading a book, or watching a movie. Or 2 out of 3 simultaneously) waiting for that one nice Jewish boy to realize how fabulous I am and sweep me off my feet.

I don't know if this signals the start of a cynical phase, a realistic phase, or a "I save my romanticism for special occassions" phase. Regardless, the water wings have come off, and I've dived into the pool. Good thing I know how to dog paddle.

Hello?

I don't know if anyone (except perhaps Jon and Veronica) actually read this anymore. I've been debating just deleting it from the blogosphere entirely, but then I realize how much I enjoy knowing that it's there, waiting for me. Besides, I find it informative to go back and read old posts. I've never been consistent about keeping a diary, so it's not really a surprise that I've been so inconsistent about blogging.

But, here I am. It's summer now, and I've finished my first year of graduate school. I've now been back in America for over one full year, and I have trouble believing how quickly it went by. So much has changed, and so much has really stayed the same. Or, rather, has gone back to what it was before I left for Israel.

My career path has gone in a very different direction that I ever thought it would. Instead of working in geriatrics, and helping families adjust to their loved ones' deteriorating memories, I've instead decided to specialize in child and adolescent mental health. For the remainder of the summer, I'm a full-time behavior therapist. And I love it. I never saw myself working with children, but I love it. And not just because I get to play with bubbles and play dough in my down time.

One year ago, I was living with my brother and future sister-in-law. Now I have my own apartment (and my brother is a married man), and it's simply beautiful to have my own space. I can't say that either the apartment or building is particularly noteworthy, but that one bedroom space is all mine. I have yet to get lonely living alone.

School has been great. I've made some fantastic friends, and met people that I never would have had a chance to speak to otherwise. Immigrants, Iraq vets, Irish, Greek, Italian, Mexican, Southern, Yankee, you name it and we've got it. Sometimes I feel like the token Jewish kid (although there are 2 other Jewish girls, I'm the only frum one, so I get to field all the Jewish questions), but I also get to ask questions about other cultures and religions. It's nice to leave the Jewish bubble every now and then.

So, work is great, school is great, my apt is great. It's been a wonderful year in so many ways. I still miss Israel daily, but I've adjusted to the necessity of putting my dreams of aliyah on a backburner. And I may not quite have the super-spectacular social life that I'd hoped for, but summer always brings its own adventures. And I'm hoping to use this blog more often over the summer, to record those adventures.

So, if you're still out there...I'm back. I think.

Mama, I'm Comin' Home!

Ah, the joys of having winter break. The fine people at UIC give me an entire month free from school. Where shall Cara spend this time? Someplace warmer than Chicago...sure. Someplace where she has friends to visit...of course. Someplace like...Israel? Perfect! That's right, folks. Cara is going back to the HL this winter break. And the best part is that her trans-Atlantic flight is being paid for by someone else.

Okay, enough third person. I've been accepted to a program called Leading Up North. It's a 10-day volunteer program being run by several different Jewish organizations. I think about 500 young Jews are going in all. I'm going through Hillel (I am really loving this whole being-a-student thing!), which is taking about 150 of those young Jews. During those 10 days, I'll be up in the north, helping to repair damage from this summer's war with Lebanon. I don't know yet exactly where or what I'll be doing. But it will be in Israel.

After those 10 days, I'll be staying around in Israel for another week or so. I'll most likely be bouncing between Tel Aviv and the J'lem area, because that's where most of my friends are located. So if you happen to be one of those friends, and you want to see me during that week, drop me a line.

Sittin' By The Dock of the...Printer?

Here I am, sitting in the computer lab of the one building on campus that I know very well, waiting for someone who works here to actually show up and start working here. The printer needs reloading, and the paper tray is locked (!), so I'm stuck here until some TA reloads it for me. Otherwise, I have no class notes, and no midterm study guide. That, and I already paid for the printing, so I want my documents. With nothing to do but wait, I figured that now would be a good time to catch up on some blogging. Luckily, I have a whole hour until my next class.

"How's life, Cara?" some of you may ask. Others may phrase it differently. "Where have you been?" "Did you forget about us?" "What is the air speed velocity of a coconut-laden swallow?" To you, I will answer: life is pretty good, I've been buried under textbooks and lesson plans, I did not forget about you, and it depends on whether the swallow is African or European. But you probably could have guessed all of those.

Honestly, life is good. I just don't have much time for blogging. That, and my paternal unit reads this occassionally, so I'm a bit reluctant to post some of the more amusing episodes of my life.

Ah, the TA finally arrived. Actually, he walked in, roamed around the room, ignored the blinking red light on the printer, roamed some more, and then went into his office. At which point I drew his attention to the blinking red light. This means that I can now go get my documents and start studying.

So much for my update. If you really want to know how I'm doing, I suggest emailing or calling. For my friends in the Holy Land, particularly those who have called in the past few weeks, I'll call as soon as I buy myself a decent phone card. For my friends in the States...well...I guess I'm just lame like that.

Elul Cleaning

I don't really do the whole 'spring cleaning' bit. For me, it's more like Pesach cleaning, but I guess the end result is the same. Everything gets swept and scrubbed and polished, the unusable gets put away, etc. I kind of feel like I've been doing a metaphorical autumnal version of Pesach cleaning. So much of the Life of Me is undergoing changes right now.

First off, I've moved into my own Cara pad. I'm flying solo for the first time in my life. No roomates, no flatmates, no one to share a bathroom with, no one to have to explain my moods to (and even I get moody sometimes). It's lovely. I am absolutely adoring having my own space. Every day, my apartment looks less like an ungovernable morass of boxes and old newspapers, and more like home. I haven't had all of my stuff in one accessible place for over a year. Me likey.

Second, I start school in less than 12 hours. I'm both excited and petrified. I've been talking about grad school for so long, but more as a concept. That concept is about to become reality. I already have my ID, my bus pass, my books. I'm a student again. Next week, I start my field placement, and will be working with children with behavorial problems. Again, I'm excited and petrified. And still adjusting to the fact that I'm going to be Stateside for at least two years. A year ago, I was packing up the last of my things, getting ready to leave for Israel. Now I'm unpacking those same things and settling back into America.

My life looks so incredibly different, one year later. Some of those changes are good ones. Others make me sad. I've gained a lot of self-confidence over the past year, and learned to put my foot down when necessary. I've taken steps to jettison some emotional baggage. I heard a quote recently that said letting go is easy, that it's holding on which hurts. Or something to that effect. I don't agree that letting go is easy, but I'm learning that sometimes holding on hurts more. I'm learning, or trying to learn, to distinguish what (or who) I need to hold on to, and what (or who) it's time to let go of.

On the Jewish calendar, we've entered the month of Elul, the final month of the year. It's supposed to be a month of reflection, of looking inward, as we get closer and closer to Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. It seemed rather fitting to me that so many of the changes in my small little life are taking place now, during Elul. Last year was one of the best of my life (so far). I know this year will be so very different, so much so that it would, and will, be unfair to draw comparisons. With so many changes taking place at once, I'm trying to see how all of these very different, very separate changes fit together in the bigger picture. Trying to view all of them as parts of the same Make Cara Happy process.

I've been out of touch with many people over the summer. To all of you, I apologize. (Particularly Jon and Veronica. I owe you about three dozen phone calls and emails. They're coming, I promise.) Now that life is settling into a more recognizable pattern, I feel like I can come out from under the rock where I've been hiding.

A Few (Inadequate) Words

I can't stop thinking about Mike. My thoughts and emotions are all over the place right now, so coming out with a coherent description of them will be hard. But my last post is just so inadequate. It neither does justice to who Mike was, or how hard his death has hit me.

On one hand, it seems a little strange to be hit so hard by the death of someone I didn't have a chance to get to know all that well. On the other hand, it makes this war- which was already emotional for me- incredibly personal. My shul has already sent out two emails about Mike's death. The American Jewish community, and even the secular one, has been struck by the loss of a young American whose passion and dreams took him to Israel. Such stories are not uncommon. But this one is not just a story for me. This time, I knew that boy. I'd laughed with him, talked with him, chilled with him. I used to tease one of my ulpan friends about having a crush on him.

Since coming back to America, I've struggled with the idea of not knowing when I'll be able to return to Israel. The more I get settled into this life here in Chicago, the more precious my memories of this past year have become. Spazzy Mike is a part of those memories. Maybe this is hitting me so hard because those memories are still so shiny and new. I met Mike less than a year ago. I always thought that he was the kind of person in my life that I would just run into the next time I was in Yerushalayim. The person you see in a bar, and join for a drink. Or stop to chat in Kikar Zion. That will never happen now. Those shiny, new memories that include Mike now take on a different hue. Now there's grief mixed in. My precious memories of Israel are not supposed to be tinged with grief. Nostalgia, yes. Longing, of course. But not grief.

And yet, I'm proud of him, as strange as that sounds. I didn't know Mike very well, but I knew how passionate he was about Israel, and about Israel being home to Jews of all types. That is the Israel that he left America to become a part of, and the Israel that he joined Tzahal to defend. The Israel that he died defending. He was given a hero's burial on Har Hertzl, a funeral attended by thousands who didn't even know him. There's a kind of comfort in that, at least for me. There's comfort knowing that he will not be forgotten, that he has become a hero to the country and people he loved so much. Even in the midst of this grief over a boy who died far too young, I'm proud of him, and proud to be able to say that I knew him, even for so short a time.

I said it before, but I'll say it again. May his memory forever be a blessing to all of us. There's a lot we can all learn from Mike, even though he's gone.

A Boy I Used To Know

A few hours ago, Jacque called me from London. He'd called two days ago, but I'd been unable to talk then. I was pleasantly surprised that he called again so soon. We chatted for about ten minutes, and then, just before we had to hang up, he suddenly changed the subject.

"Do you remember Mike? The soldier, Josh's friend?"
"Sure," I replied. We'd called him 'Spazzy Mike' as an affectionate nickname, because he was so full of life and energy. He'd laughed at the nickname.
"He passed away. It's what I called you to say a couple days ago."

For a moment, I was utterly speechless. Passed away? Mike? What could possibly have happened?

"Passed away?" I managed to get out. But I knew, before Jacque spoke again, what he would say.
"Well, killed."
"In Lebanon?" I asked. My eyes were already tearing up, and I could barely get the words out.
"Yeah." He didn't really need to say more. We both understood enough.

I guess, deep down, I knew that eventually this war would get personal for me. It just wasn't possible that everyone I know would come out of this unscathed. But I'd hoped and prayed. And now I'm grieving for a boy younger than I am.

Spazzy Mike, also known as Michael Levin, had been in the ulpan on Kvutzat Yavne about two years before I was. He'd made aliyah and joined Tzahal, and still visited the kibbutz. One of his fellow ulpan friends and fellow soldiers, Josh, was very close with Jacque. As a result, whenever Mike came to the kibbutz, we would end up hanging out. Just chilling on the steps, or in the moadon, or around the nargila.

I can't say that I knew him very well. But I knew him. He was a sweet boy, a few years younger than me, with enough energy for six 12-year-old boys put together. He was easygoing, with a quick sense of humor. One of the only people who could keep up with my sarcasm and send it right back to me. No, I can't say I knew him very well. But I liked him.

Baruch dayan emet. May his memory be a blessing for us all.

General Update. And Stuff.

I keep coming up with excuses why I'm not blogging more often. This week's excuse: my life is mundane. How can I blog about the small frustrations and miniscule triumphs of my life when my country is at war and people are dying? How can I write about my random thoughts and non-sequiters here in Chicago when my people are under attack here in America. I feel guilty. Stupid as it may seem, I feel guilty writing about the events of my life which, in the grand scheme of things, really don't amount to very much. Rockets are falling deeper in Israel. People were shot in Seattle. And I'm frustrated because I can't find an apartment?!

But, for those who really are interested in my small little life, here's a general update:

*Grad School* I've been accepted and enrolled in the University of Illinois at Chicago Jane Addams College of Social Work. This is the program I wanted, and I'm extremely excited to start. Classes start at the end of August.

*Living Situation* I just found a place to call my own. I should be moving in sometime after August 15th. In the meantime, I'm still living with Big Brother and Big Sister, who have been wonderful and generous and patient. We just moved yesterday to their shiny, pretty new condo.

*Work and Play* My meaningless summer office job ends in 2 weeks. I have 2 PT jobs lined up for the school year, which shold begin within the next month. I kind of have a social life. It ebbs and flows. Right now it's kind of ebbing, but I choose to blame a combination of the Three Weeks and my recent frantic search for an apartment. This means that I should start being more social again after this week. Keep your fingers crossed.

There you have it, folks. The current Life of Me in a very small nutshell. I really will try to post more often. I just don't want anyone to think for a moment that any irreverant, random postings mean that I'm not glued to CNN or Israeli newspapers online, and that my heart isn't still with my people and my country.

Watching the Green(er) Grass Grow

We all knew this statement was going to come. In fact, I knew when I left Israel that I was most likely going to say this. Ready for it? Here goes...

I should have made aliyah.

My friends in Israel, assuming they still read this, are now nodding their heads and saying, "Told you so!" while my friends and family in America are shaking their heads and thinking that I'm crazy. The latter won't like this post. They want me safe and healthy and happy in Chicago.

Safe, certainly. Healthy, well...that's not in my hands. Happy...I haven't been truly happy since I was in Israel. That's the part that I know they won't want to hear. But it's true. I miss who I was in Israel. I miss my lifestyle in J'lem. I made more sense there. Life made more sense there. Even with rockets falling, sirens wailing, people dying, etc., I would rather be in Israel.

Some of my friends here say that I need to give Chicago more of a chance. Wait until I've found my own apartment, started grad school, met new people. Wait and see, they say. And in the meantime, I go to bed every night and wake up every morning with the same thought. I should have made aliyah.

I feel locked in. Like I made my choice, and now I have to live with it for two years. I'm enrolled in grad school. I got a scholarship. I have jobs that I can keep while in school. I'm searching for an apartment. All those little wheels are in motion that stick me further and further into the rut that I feel like I'm in. Those iron bars are sliding shut. Pick cliché and insert here.

On the other hand, had I made aliyah, maybe I would be typing this post from my flat in J'lem, wondering if I had acted too hastily. Wondering if I should have gone to grad school in America. Feeling guilty knowing that my family was losing sleep worrying about my safety. That darn grass is always greener, after all. So I'll just sit here and watch it grow. Feel free to bring a picnic blanket and join me.

If I Forget Thee...

I keep telling myself to blog more. Not that my life is all that interesting these days, but I'm sure there are those out there who would still read about my apartment hunting trials, or random Cara-type murmurings.

But I can't write it. I have friends facing far more difficult, trying obstacles than finding a new apartment, or trying to figure out how to juggle work and school. All things considered, my life is chugging along fairly smoothly. My world seems to trivial.

The events of the past 48 hours have made me feel my own triviality even more strongly. I should never have left Israel. I know my family and friends here in America sleep more soundly at night knowing that I am in Chicago, but I don't. I toss and turn at night, unable to sleep, wondering and worrying. In waking hours, I constantly check Israeli news sources, obsessing over every new article or lck thereof.

I feel like I abandoned my home. Part of me knows that this is irrational. I left two months ago, before Shalit was kidnapped, before Hezbollah started this on the Lebanese border. I left to go to graduate school, not because of the "situation". And I know, deep down, that my presence in Israel would not be of any help. I'm not a soldier. I can't defend my country. But over here in Chicago, I am completely, 100% helpless to do anything except watch from afar.

Maybe this won't make sense to anyone else. It doesn't have to. I realize how bizarre this must sound...to wish I was back in a place where people are taking refuge in bomb shelters, where rockets are hitting cities never before hit, where every hour brings the toll of those wounded or killed even higher. Bizarre, but true.

I've been homesick for Israel every day since I left. Right now, the longing to be there almost makes me nauseous. My heart weeps for those wounded, for their families, the families of those who have been killed, the families of the soliders who have been kidnapped, for my entire country. And my fists curl up in helpless anger at those who have brought about this violence, and at the Powers That Be who have me sitting in an office in Chicago, so very far from where my heart is.

Holy Wing Girl, Batman!

The following is an actual advertisement that I saw about 30 seconds ago in a local Chicago paper. I was simply looking for part-time job opportunities, along the tutoring or waitressing lines.

Sorry to the guy who wrote this, but it's just too funny not to share:

Here's the deal: I don't want to date you, have sex with you or even kiss or hug you.

I want you to hang out with me at bars and talk me up to other girls so I break the ice with them. Whenever I'm out with females, random girls feel so much more comfortable in talking to me.

The only requirements are that you are attractive and personable. Age doesn't even matter, so long as you're over 21. I'm 27, 5'9, 135 lb; but even having an attractive confident 40 yr old talking me up would be superb.

If you like, I'll give you my cellphone number and home address so you know my details; but I don't need to even know your last name. We'll arrange by email or cellphone to meet in a bar, and at the end of it I'll pay you $45/hr. In addition to this, if I meet a girl through you who I end up going on at least 5 dates with, I'll give you $1000.

If there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable in doing this, I'm all open to ideas. Obviously I'll pay for all drinks, tips, meals, concert tickets, etc.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I placed a very similar ad to the one above about a month ago. I got about 90 responses, interviewed about 30 of them, and eventually chose 6 to actually go out with. 3 of them I used only once, and am now down to 2 who I think are effective.

Both of my current winggirls have very hectic lifestyles, and I can only go out once a week between them. Although I haven’t found my soulmate, I’ve met lots of girls through going out with them. I’m therefore looking for 2-4 more winggirls, so that I can go out 2 or 3 times a week during the summer.

Anyone think I should apply? Bueller? Bueller?

Cara's World Goes Gluten-Free

Those who have had the privalege of meeting my maternal unit probably know that she has a whole host of wacky food sensitivities: wheat, corn, soy, milk, oranges, and I think even egg whites. For years, it seemed as though this was solely her bizarre burden.

After returning from the Holy Land, however, it appears as though this may be my burden to share. Since coming back, I've been on what they like to call a "Detection Diet", which pretty much means I stop eating anything we think I may be sensitive to for 2+ weeks, and then reintegrate it into my diet and see what happens. So far, I don't seem to have much of a reaction to corn. So that leaves wheat products. I've not deliberately eaten gluten in over 2 weeks (okay, so I've had a little bit of challah. And maybe a sip or two of scotch. What can I say? I'm weak!).

Here's the sad part: I really do feel better. I have more energy. My brain seems to function better (though I'm sure plenty of my friends would argue this). My nose is less stuffy. So this seems to indicate that I'm either "Wheat Intolerant" or that I've joined the ranks of those with Celiac.

So, for the time being, my world is gluten-free. The good news? Bourbon is also gluten-free. We don't have to end our love affair anytime soon.