x_los: (like Ace Rimmer)
Today was splendid. After finally getting some sleep after the IVs of speed, which made me feel better but also ludicrously, unbearably jittery, I woke up feeling actually almost normal. I got a Happy Valentine's Day text from my mom and another from Daddy. I beta'd the second of two fics for bagheera_san (behold the first, which is just lovely), and wrote another two thousand words of my first cliche!fic entry, including some indication of the scenes I still need to write. Dabbing in an outline of what I need to do always gives me a feeling of control and direction in the morass of an ambitious or plottier fic.

A few cups of tea later I had lunch with Haddas, who managed to annoy me by, on the day when I was sick and useless and getting IVs put in, having been off showing the Dutch ambassador around in her sweet IDF war office job. Way to make me feel extra pathetic, friend. But still, had some tea and surprisingly good cake at Member's Club, got juicy gossip from Kim, and we walked back home to bathe in the glut of delicious, warm sun with books. While Haddas embarrassed herself with Twilight I made inroads with High Fidelity. I hadn't picked it up since the train over from England, and I knocked a respectable hundred pages off of this afternoon.

I suggested we hike to Old Bar'am, the ruins of a village and synagoque dating to the third century C.E. This is, according to legend, the final resting place of Queen Esther, my favorite biblical character. Toni, Erik, Tamara, Joel, Haddas and I all went. We stopped en route to check out the Jewish and Christian cemetaries on the side of the road. There were children playing soccer in a wide lawn outside the old synagogue, smacking the ball hard up against the old walls, accidentally sending it knocking into the former Holy of Hollies and clambering over the half-crumbled walls to fetch it back as Haddas berated them for their carelessness in Hebrew. Interesting column capitals and engravings--nothing from the Western architectural canon, though the wide portico is atypical and might well have been Greek or Roman influenced.

The ruins are actually v. well-preserved and shockingly extensive, and though we arrived at sunset we still had time to traipse through the overgrown remnants of what appeared to have once been a relatively sizeable community. I'm unclear on the age of these ruins--Bar'am's the site of an ancient village, but was also the site of a village in 1948, when Jewish troops drove out Christian Arab settlers, who resettled in nearby Jish. Like most Israeli historical sites there's little moderation: no one telling the kids not to play soccer against the ancient synagogue, no ropes preventing touching or running around in the site, no plaques explaining the age and probable use of the buildings. This is frustrating for a history nerd or someone who thinks relics should be somewhat protected from ill-use the way Indiana Jones thinks 'this belongs in a museum,' but Israel's so chock-full o' relics, no wonder they're a bit cavalier about it all. The lack of information did lend a sort of otherworldly ('entering fairyland,' as Haddas so purpley put it) atmosphere to the labrynthine passages in the gloaming. 

We walked back a bit of the way, but I successfully hitched us a ride home (a trick I love pulling, and which makes me feel flush with competence). In roughly an hour and a quarter we're getting around to watching Slumdog Millionaire, about which I've heard good things, if not enthusiastically fabulous ones.

I'm happy to be recovered, largely, though I'm still on antibiotics and still going home to see a real doctor and rest in America at the month's end. All in all a very nice Valentine's day, even though my 'valentine' (lord, how twee) is currently off listening to Tom Stoppard instead of me. :p

Thanks SO MUCH friends who were worried about me when I was sick. It was really v. sweet of y'all, and much appreciated.

x_los: (like Ace Rimmer)
Today was splendid. After finally getting some sleep after the IVs of speed, which made me feel better but also ludicrously, unbearably jittery, I woke up feeling actually almost normal. I got a Happy Valentine's Day text from my mom and another from Daddy. I beta'd the second of two fics for bagheera_san (behold the first, which is just lovely), and wrote another two thousand words of my first cliche!fic entry, including some indication of the scenes I still need to write. Dabbing in an outline of what I need to do always gives me a feeling of control and direction in the morass of an ambitious or plottier fic.

A few cups of tea later I had lunch with Haddas, who managed to annoy me by, on the day when I was sick and useless and getting IVs put in, having been off showing the Dutch ambassador around in her sweet IDF war office job. Way to make me feel extra pathetic, friend. But still, had some tea and surprisingly good cake at Member's Club, got juicy gossip from Kim, and we walked back home to bathe in the glut of delicious, warm sun with books. While Haddas embarrassed herself with Twilight I made inroads with High Fidelity. I hadn't picked it up since the train over from England, and I knocked a respectable hundred pages off of this afternoon.

I suggested we hike to Old Bar'am, the ruins of a village and synagoque dating to the third century C.E. This is, according to legend, the final resting place of Queen Esther, my favorite biblical character. Toni, Erik, Tamara, Joel, Haddas and I all went. We stopped en route to check out the Jewish and Christian cemetaries on the side of the road. There were children playing soccer in a wide lawn outside the old synagogue, smacking the ball hard up against the old walls, accidentally sending it knocking into the former Holy of Hollies and clambering over the half-crumbled walls to fetch it back as Haddas berated them for their carelessness in Hebrew. Interesting column capitals and engravings--nothing from the Western architectural canon, though the wide portico is atypical and might well have been Greek or Roman influenced.

The ruins are actually v. well-preserved and shockingly extensive, and though we arrived at sunset we still had time to traipse through the overgrown remnants of what appeared to have once been a relatively sizeable community. I'm unclear on the age of these ruins--Bar'am's the site of an ancient village, but was also the site of a village in 1948, when Jewish troops drove out Christian Arab settlers, who resettled in nearby Jish. Like most Israeli historical sites there's little moderation: no one telling the kids not to play soccer against the ancient synagogue, no ropes preventing touching or running around in the site, no plaques explaining the age and probable use of the buildings. This is frustrating for a history nerd or someone who thinks relics should be somewhat protected from ill-use the way Indiana Jones thinks 'this belongs in a museum,' but Israel's so chock-full o' relics, no wonder they're a bit cavalier about it all. The lack of information did lend a sort of otherworldly ('entering fairyland,' as Haddas so purpley put it) atmosphere to the labrynthine passages in the gloaming. 

We walked back a bit of the way, but I successfully hitched us a ride home (a trick I love pulling, and which makes me feel flush with competence). In roughly an hour and a quarter we're getting around to watching Slumdog Millionaire, about which I've heard good things, if not enthusiastically fabulous ones.

I'm happy to be recovered, largely, though I'm still on antibiotics and still going home to see a real doctor and rest in America at the month's end. All in all a very nice Valentine's day, even though my 'valentine' (lord, how twee) is currently off listening to Tom Stoppard instead of me. :p

Thanks SO MUCH friends who were worried about me when I was sick. It was really v. sweet of y'all, and much appreciated.

x_los: (Spock Tires Of Your Bullshit.)
Having been sick for going on three weeks now (working, mind, but sick), I'm deciding to call it. It's not a short term cold/flu with a freaky comic tendency to erupt into deadly nausea when it feels life's gotten too dull, it's Something. And the kibbutz Doctor's not very useful as far as diagnosing my Something. Katy suggested that it might be a small issue aggravated by exhaustion, and I'm afraid she may be right. They were threatening to drag me to the hospital last night, so whatever it is isn't any nicer to look at than it is to experience. I'm afraid I may have mono or a similar serious complaint, and may be making myself worse trying to stay.

I've emailed my family and told them that I'm worried and want to come home. I've sent them a worksheet of the possible pricing options for different flight combos. I'm waiting for them to get back to me.

I'll see Jerusalem before I go if at all possible, and maybe Akko and the Dead Sea if I can swing it, but I'm a bit too sick/exhausted to really care about whether I'll later be annoyed that I didn't Experience whatever.

I'm annoyed with myself because I /said/ a year, but if I'm ill, what can I do? I'm more annoyed about the prospect of packing everything up than anything. I've been having long, extensively detailed dreams of being home, lately, which must say something about my readiness to leave Israel. And I am--and have been--blackly depressed of late, unable to write, sleeping constantly from some twined illness and bad mood, eating almost none of the unappetizing food here from nausea and lack of appetite. I may need mental help as well as physical, or just a change of scenery.
x_los: (Spock Tires Of Your Bullshit.)
Having been sick for going on three weeks now (working, mind, but sick), I'm deciding to call it. It's not a short term cold/flu with a freaky comic tendency to erupt into deadly nausea when it feels life's gotten too dull, it's Something. And the kibbutz Doctor's not very useful as far as diagnosing my Something. Katy suggested that it might be a small issue aggravated by exhaustion, and I'm afraid she may be right. They were threatening to drag me to the hospital last night, so whatever it is isn't any nicer to look at than it is to experience. I'm afraid I may have mono or a similar serious complaint, and may be making myself worse trying to stay.

I've emailed my family and told them that I'm worried and want to come home. I've sent them a worksheet of the possible pricing options for different flight combos. I'm waiting for them to get back to me.

I'll see Jerusalem before I go if at all possible, and maybe Akko and the Dead Sea if I can swing it, but I'm a bit too sick/exhausted to really care about whether I'll later be annoyed that I didn't Experience whatever.

I'm annoyed with myself because I /said/ a year, but if I'm ill, what can I do? I'm more annoyed about the prospect of packing everything up than anything. I've been having long, extensively detailed dreams of being home, lately, which must say something about my readiness to leave Israel. And I am--and have been--blackly depressed of late, unable to write, sleeping constantly from some twined illness and bad mood, eating almost none of the unappetizing food here from nausea and lack of appetite. I may need mental help as well as physical, or just a change of scenery.
x_los: (Make a Note.)
I've been sick since Monday, and Shimrit, Renit and Raviv (the kibbutzniks over me) are just being asinine about it. Their policy for how to call in sick changes with their whims, and I never manage it right because it's different every fucking time. They seem to think I've been ill as something of a lark. I sent two people to my regional-boss to say I was sick today, as per the rules? Despite expressly being told to do just this at the last Volunteer Meeting, this was apparently not enough, I should have called as well.

1) That's not what they said, and
2) I CAN'T SPEAK ABOVE A WHISPER.

I wish I could call, but my voice DNE right now (laryngitis maybe? I don't think I've ever had this before). Do they realy think they could've understood my English over the phone /when I can only whisper/? Because good fucking luck. Their English is piss poor on a good day.

I'm tired of the kibbutz doctor holding out on the drugs I need for no reason. He looked at my throat twice before I entirely lost my voice and dismissed my pain as imaginary. He sneers when I don't come up with a fever and my blood pressure is fine. Despite the fact that I can say 'me fever broke last night, I was convulsing, you can see my nose is raw from blowing, please, please give me an antibiotic or a decongestant. He won't give me anything useful and I have to scrounge off the meds he DOES give friends, apparently at random, because all he'll shove at me is Tylenol. I'm tired of the condescension or mild disbelief that seems to imply I must be enjoying myself or something. Tired of the big performative SICKNESS I feel compelled to display at all times in case they catch a flicker of my returning health and decide I was too well to stay home at any rate. I didn't eat for like four days, or go out. I've LIVED on hot tea I've been into their shitty, useless doctor every fucking day. He's like Student Health from hell if there weren't any recourse to real medical treatment.

I'm constantly afraid I'll be kicked off, and thus effectively be deported, for being ill. I've gone into work when I wasn't ready and made myself sicker for it, prolonging a debilitating, horrible, painful illness that, with proper medication and rest, might well not have made me feel like an alien for a week. I'm a good, hard worker when I'm well: that's not me making a deluded assessment because I feel entitled or something, people here have commented on it frequently. I deserve a rational system of volunteer governance that doesn't keep me paralyzed with fear that I'll be penalized unfairly for something that was none of my making.

And my dad is driving me NUTS:

keithwhorak: So are you getting enough material to write a book?
me: oh I don't know
keithwhorak: will you have enough material to write a book by September?
me: dad. I don't know.

...keithwhorak: so how much weight have you lost?
me: I'm not sure?
x_los: (Make a Note.)
I've been sick since Monday, and Shimrit, Renit and Raviv (the kibbutzniks over me) are just being asinine about it. Their policy for how to call in sick changes with their whims, and I never manage it right because it's different every fucking time. They seem to think I've been ill as something of a lark. I sent two people to my regional-boss to say I was sick today, as per the rules? Despite expressly being told to do just this at the last Volunteer Meeting, this was apparently not enough, I should have called as well.

1) That's not what they said, and
2) I CAN'T SPEAK ABOVE A WHISPER.

I wish I could call, but my voice DNE right now (laryngitis maybe? I don't think I've ever had this before). Do they realy think they could've understood my English over the phone /when I can only whisper/? Because good fucking luck. Their English is piss poor on a good day.

I'm tired of the kibbutz doctor holding out on the drugs I need for no reason. He looked at my throat twice before I entirely lost my voice and dismissed my pain as imaginary. He sneers when I don't come up with a fever and my blood pressure is fine. Despite the fact that I can say 'me fever broke last night, I was convulsing, you can see my nose is raw from blowing, please, please give me an antibiotic or a decongestant. He won't give me anything useful and I have to scrounge off the meds he DOES give friends, apparently at random, because all he'll shove at me is Tylenol. I'm tired of the condescension or mild disbelief that seems to imply I must be enjoying myself or something. Tired of the big performative SICKNESS I feel compelled to display at all times in case they catch a flicker of my returning health and decide I was too well to stay home at any rate. I didn't eat for like four days, or go out. I've LIVED on hot tea I've been into their shitty, useless doctor every fucking day. He's like Student Health from hell if there weren't any recourse to real medical treatment.

I'm constantly afraid I'll be kicked off, and thus effectively be deported, for being ill. I've gone into work when I wasn't ready and made myself sicker for it, prolonging a debilitating, horrible, painful illness that, with proper medication and rest, might well not have made me feel like an alien for a week. I'm a good, hard worker when I'm well: that's not me making a deluded assessment because I feel entitled or something, people here have commented on it frequently. I deserve a rational system of volunteer governance that doesn't keep me paralyzed with fear that I'll be penalized unfairly for something that was none of my making.

And my dad is driving me NUTS:

keithwhorak: So are you getting enough material to write a book?
me: oh I don't know
keithwhorak: will you have enough material to write a book by September?
me: dad. I don't know.

...keithwhorak: so how much weight have you lost?
me: I'm not sure?
x_los: (What the fuck movie is this even from?)
So in an attempt to pacify the sleep-dep, I went to bed /right/ after dinner, only to wake up at 3:30 am for no reason. Still tired? Yes. Unable to get back to bed? Well, it's 4:37am and I'm trolling livejournal, so survey says? And not only that, but my weird floating bad mood of the entire day has somehow crystalized during sleep into the vicious nastiness only really achieved but an hour in which no one's awake to distract you from it or make you achieve some perspective. Eugh. I have /got/ to rationalize this sleep schedule.

To that end: There's apparently this big boat party all Friday on the Red Sea with ocean-tubing for the volunteers, to celebrate the close of the harvest (or just about--appropriate, as we're in Sukkot). And then I OFFICIALLY never have to work at the packing house again--I've been promised that before, but now I'm v. 'you can't take the sky from me' about it, and will bite ankles if they backslide with their 'just ooooone more week' nonsense.

I'm rather bored with this kibbutz, and kind of want to change to see if some other is less meh. Not that I've had any glam illusions shattered, I just don't know that it's a v. good fit. Juan the Volunteer Leader was already telling us all that 'with harvest done, we need fewer volunteers now. Anyone want to jump ship? I'll arrange that for you.' And seeing as I'm nearly at my two month mark for this one already *shrug.* More kibbutzim=more to write about, and getting it done for me rather than having to pay the KPC some weird new registration fee (working oversees is like Monopoly--'wait, fuck I was supposed to pay into a community chest? Er, here then. AND rent on that? Okay, well, whatever. Wait i'm in jail now--well, shit. Roll 'American Embassy' to get out...')? Fine by me.

The downside being that this woefully now-unsocialized Kibbutz pays pretty decently (I end up having like 400$ American each month in excess of what I spend on/what I'm just given in terms of food/room/utilities/work clothes/laundry service/etc., and if I spend 50$ or 100$ on sundries/food above and beyond the cafeteria, that's still not bad). I really should stay on another month or two to shore up funds for traveling, etc. Maybe the KPC or Juan would know where else pays a commensurate ammount?

In other news, if offered a nice living sittuation with William Carlos Williams, say


Forgive me
But no fucking way.


Things I've read/listened to since trip beginning:

...

4. BFA 50 Zagreus
5. Emma
6. Tale of Two Cities
7. Persuasion
8. Letters of Two Brides
9. The Scarlet Pimpernel
10. The Time Traveller's Wife
11. BFA 16 Storm Warning
12. BFA 17 Sword of Orion
13. BFA 18 The Stones of Venice
14. BFA 19 Minuet in Hell
15. BFA 28 Invaders from Mars
16. BFA 29 The Chimes of Midnight
17. BFA 30 Seasons of Fear
18. BFA 31 Embrace the Darkness
19. BFA 32 The Time of the Daleks
20. BFA 33 Neverland

Currently Unfinished: relistening to Zagreus, now with 100% more context, still haven't polished Shadowland off, or those last twenty pages of Passage to India.

*EDIT* UM, entirely without prompting or warning, letter from my baby brother (well, I say that, but he's 10 now) Sam:
" you are loved dearly for ever
and know mater how far away you
may be you will always be in my heart
forever love, sam "

:3 Was I supposed to be in a crap mood or something? Typos and all, that--that is really sweet.
x_los: (What the fuck movie is this even from?)
So in an attempt to pacify the sleep-dep, I went to bed /right/ after dinner, only to wake up at 3:30 am for no reason. Still tired? Yes. Unable to get back to bed? Well, it's 4:37am and I'm trolling livejournal, so survey says? And not only that, but my weird floating bad mood of the entire day has somehow crystalized during sleep into the vicious nastiness only really achieved but an hour in which no one's awake to distract you from it or make you achieve some perspective. Eugh. I have /got/ to rationalize this sleep schedule.

To that end: There's apparently this big boat party all Friday on the Red Sea with ocean-tubing for the volunteers, to celebrate the close of the harvest (or just about--appropriate, as we're in Sukkot). And then I OFFICIALLY never have to work at the packing house again--I've been promised that before, but now I'm v. 'you can't take the sky from me' about it, and will bite ankles if they backslide with their 'just ooooone more week' nonsense.

I'm rather bored with this kibbutz, and kind of want to change to see if some other is less meh. Not that I've had any glam illusions shattered, I just don't know that it's a v. good fit. Juan the Volunteer Leader was already telling us all that 'with harvest done, we need fewer volunteers now. Anyone want to jump ship? I'll arrange that for you.' And seeing as I'm nearly at my two month mark for this one already *shrug.* More kibbutzim=more to write about, and getting it done for me rather than having to pay the KPC some weird new registration fee (working oversees is like Monopoly--'wait, fuck I was supposed to pay into a community chest? Er, here then. AND rent on that? Okay, well, whatever. Wait i'm in jail now--well, shit. Roll 'American Embassy' to get out...')? Fine by me.

The downside being that this woefully now-unsocialized Kibbutz pays pretty decently (I end up having like 400$ American each month in excess of what I spend on/what I'm just given in terms of food/room/utilities/work clothes/laundry service/etc., and if I spend 50$ or 100$ on sundries/food above and beyond the cafeteria, that's still not bad). I really should stay on another month or two to shore up funds for traveling, etc. Maybe the KPC or Juan would know where else pays a commensurate ammount?

In other news, if offered a nice living sittuation with William Carlos Williams, say


Forgive me
But no fucking way.


Things I've read/listened to since trip beginning:

...

4. BFA 50 Zagreus
5. Emma
6. Tale of Two Cities
7. Persuasion
8. Letters of Two Brides
9. The Scarlet Pimpernel
10. The Time Traveller's Wife
11. BFA 16 Storm Warning
12. BFA 17 Sword of Orion
13. BFA 18 The Stones of Venice
14. BFA 19 Minuet in Hell
15. BFA 28 Invaders from Mars
16. BFA 29 The Chimes of Midnight
17. BFA 30 Seasons of Fear
18. BFA 31 Embrace the Darkness
19. BFA 32 The Time of the Daleks
20. BFA 33 Neverland

Currently Unfinished: relistening to Zagreus, now with 100% more context, still haven't polished Shadowland off, or those last twenty pages of Passage to India.

*EDIT* UM, entirely without prompting or warning, letter from my baby brother (well, I say that, but he's 10 now) Sam:
" you are loved dearly for ever
and know mater how far away you
may be you will always be in my heart
forever love, sam "

:3 Was I supposed to be in a crap mood or something? Typos and all, that--that is really sweet.
x_los: (Obligatory Two Icon)
Heard back from Kibbutz board! Apparently the (refunded, if you actually stay) registration fee, health insurance and 'pocket money to make sure you won't end up stranded somewhere, you stupid American' totals out to 1610 NIS (New Israeli Shekels)/ 458.95 American, which is way doable.

One Nitsa tells me that 'all kibbutzim have internet.' Wow, way to fret about nothing, Erin. And way to go wired, places with a declining 'frontiersman' reputation in Israeli popular culture.

On the subject of flight arrangements, Nitsa was less helpful (though way good with everything else, I need to say thanks).

"Unfortunately, we have no information about flight.

You do no need a return ticket, but you might have to show that you have enough money (at the airport)."


Okay, reasonable, so what, now I have to either con Birthright into paying my trip over or see what the absolute CHEAPEST flight ever around could be? Wonder what's good for that.

Mom is trying to convince me that the visa will take FOREVER to obtain, but the kibbutz site kind of made it seem like the visa was really not a giant deal, as if I brought the money and explained I was going to be a kibbutz volunteer in the Israeli airport and they stamped a card. I should ask Nitsa.

*Edit* And am going to be eight hours ahead of my home time zone, thus two hours ahead of London-time, finally enabling [livejournal.com profile] aralias to obtain the moral victory by not being the one who has to beg off to go sleep.
x_los: (Obligatory Two Icon)
Heard back from Kibbutz board! Apparently the (refunded, if you actually stay) registration fee, health insurance and 'pocket money to make sure you won't end up stranded somewhere, you stupid American' totals out to 1610 NIS (New Israeli Shekels)/ 458.95 American, which is way doable.

One Nitsa tells me that 'all kibbutzim have internet.' Wow, way to fret about nothing, Erin. And way to go wired, places with a declining 'frontiersman' reputation in Israeli popular culture.

On the subject of flight arrangements, Nitsa was less helpful (though way good with everything else, I need to say thanks).

"Unfortunately, we have no information about flight.

You do no need a return ticket, but you might have to show that you have enough money (at the airport)."


Okay, reasonable, so what, now I have to either con Birthright into paying my trip over or see what the absolute CHEAPEST flight ever around could be? Wonder what's good for that.

Mom is trying to convince me that the visa will take FOREVER to obtain, but the kibbutz site kind of made it seem like the visa was really not a giant deal, as if I brought the money and explained I was going to be a kibbutz volunteer in the Israeli airport and they stamped a card. I should ask Nitsa.

*Edit* And am going to be eight hours ahead of my home time zone, thus two hours ahead of London-time, finally enabling [livejournal.com profile] aralias to obtain the moral victory by not being the one who has to beg off to go sleep.

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