Me this time last year.

It’s quite interesting to read your state of mind at the exact same time the year before. For that reason- I enjoy blogging. Everything becomes a progression- at the same time, I see how everything is a cycle as well. We are not far from the people we were a year before, or many years before, the change is the complexity of life- added on responsibilities of being an adult- the hangover of sentimentality from experience, one’s weight.
Life to me is Layered Like an onion, slightly sweet- crisp- brings a tear to your eye but a necessary flavor in life. After all, an onion is a key ingredient to many recipe bases…la la la..
I don’t miss my mother any less, but I finally got to speaking to the Bet Din. And of course- you all know the outcome of that =)
Feb 13th 2006
I’m sitting on my Ikea barstool with my laptop in front of me, I had just completed another couple hours of working on my freelance job that always feels like a dead end. At this moment in time, I am yearning for some philosophical brain stimulation and a big hug. I need a wise leprechaun to show me the secret path into the babbling brook where all your fears are floating in glossy pink bubbles and when they pop, you simply laugh harder.
I bought my brother a flask before I left for Thailand. It read “The harder it gets, the harder I laugh” engraved on it. It was my permanent quote back then. Hardship was something that fueled the fire in my ass. I grew ten feet taller with stress and challenge.
Today was my second attempt to go to the Rabbinical Court to familiarize myself with my conversion classes that begin in two weeks. Seems easy enough doesn’t it? Last week my attempt failed by an overly aggressive security guard. I left in tears, sitting on the bench outside, weak and exhausted from all the effort. I came home and called the teacher and explained my fears of doing it all in Hebrew. “Usually the women that attend these classes have an Israeli boyfriend or husband to help them with the translations”, the teacher told me. I sighed deeply into the phone. “Yes I realize that Yair, but unfortunately I don’t”. I then hang up the phone and the familiar sickening loneliness that creeps into the right ventricle of my heart.
Another reminder of last Spring. Today, well- who knows the exact reason. It could be how I made an absolute unforgivable fool of myself last night. It could be work. One thing I have realized, is that because of the business of moving in and getting settled. I haven’t allowed myself any time to grieve.
I understand for many of my friends, they have forgotten my baggage. Because they don’t carry my pain, they assume I no longer do either. I assume I no longer carry my pain. But then I hear someone that sounds like Tsiki, or a man that stands like my father and I am biting my trembling lip as I briskly walk home, hoping the sunglasses I just bought are big enough to cover it up. I am still fragile, I am almost a fool to pretend I’m not. I crave to hide away, I crave my mother at times like this. I want to be picked up from the bathtub in a towel and how she would wrap my head in another while I leaned my head on her chest, she’d dry my hair as I listened to her heartbeat. 10 months After 12 it will be more promising.
I am enjoying the entertainment on the bus. Growing up in Oklahoma, we never took buses. First cars came at 16 and upgraded when we were 21. It’s impossible to live in Tulsa without a car. Now, I rely on the buses to get me to work. I get to stare at peoples faces behind my big dark glasses with a soundtrack in the form of my ipod and Arcade Fire in my ears. I get to stare at people staring at me- Old women with large breasts rocking back and forth with the bus. I stare at the girls with too much makeup, I reach out and scratch their face to see how many centimeter’s of base has been applied. I blink. I smell the students Cologne. “Polo Sport” I smile to myself. My first boyfriend at 17 wore it religiously. By this time my head is swaying with the motion of the bus.
Relaxing Metropolitan Meditation.
I am already looking forward to the weekend but it’s only Monday. I am already looking forward to running but my back isn’t healed. I am already publishing a book in my head when it hasn’t been written. I am already talking to people I wrote off. I am pleased this day is finished, I am not a big fan of myself today.

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Germapino with a Jewish Twist. Twist. Collective Thoughts of a Ginrod are the musings of a Texas born,half German, half Filipina girl who who went on a trip to Bangkok and found herself in the Holy Land , as a jew, married to an Englishman, with 3 kids and a pup named Henck.

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