8 Days: Infinity on end

Funny how the symbol for infinity is an eight turned on its side.  Or maybe I should ask why an eight is an infinity symbol standing on end.   In any case, it’s almost a week until my 30th, and it might as well be an eternity away for how much a have to accomplish  by that date…

Being an avid book lover and having to move apartments to a fourth floor walkup without any cash or much help is a nightmare.  Having to do this in the middle of summer in Tel Aviv with a twenty year-old borrowed car (without AC) on its very last leg made this hell on earth.

But I survived.  Every muscle shaking.  So wet from sweat, it was like I’d jumped in the sea with all my clothes on.

And here I sit.  In the gorgeous new place.  No idea how I will be paying for it.  Not at all unpacked.  And with a couple more loads of stuff to bring over from my old place.

I did have a short interview today.  For what could be the answer to my prayers.  A work from home job that could pay exceptionally well to basically be a long-distance secretary. But the chances are low, and the interview process long.  Which means the resumes still keep going out.

And I’m going to turn in.  I can actually get about 8 hours sleep tonight…a far cry from the 3-4 hours I’ve been getting because of the move.  Tomorrow is another wine tasting.  My feet hurt.  And a word to the wise:

NEVER mix Moscato with Arak.

It’s a nasty combination.

47 Days: Jet-laggin in Warsaw, city of geraniums

Got into Warsaw yesterday afternoon, and by the grace of whatever, actually got to my hostel in under 2 hours. Had me a solid 4-5 hours of sunny evening walks and sightseeing and dinner. Came back exhausted and collapsed shortly after 10 pm, while trying to watch a movie on my laptop (I got a private room in this nice hostel — woo hoo for a private shower, private kitche, sunny room with double bed!)…and proceeded to wake up at 2:30 am (it being 7 pm in Chicago or something like that)…and I couldn’t fall back asleep. 4 am rolls around, I make a cup of tea and turn the movie back on…and after an hour, I’m sleeping again. Of course. Sun is already streaming into the room (even before at 4 am!), I wake at 8am, then 9 am, then 10 am, when I drag myself up (breakfast ends at 11, checkout at noon). And now I have 40 minutes to get out of the bedroom and out onto the streets. See, one day of sightseeing is all well and good on paper. Gorgeous short romantic layover in Eastern European capital city…fab…until the jet lag and general fatigue from over two months’ travel bog you down.

Sure, I’ve got a few things to go back and see — the palace of science and culture, which looks more like a primitive sky scraper out of a marvel comic book — perfect to hang Kind Kong off of…the Warsaw Uprising Museum (I really don’t want to spend the day inside stuffy museums, though…), Jewish stuff, which as a Jew I really should do (hey, that rhymes!)…but the ghetto is almost entirely gone, and I don’t fancy walking all over creation to find some half crumbled wall…and did I mention my feeet are hurting. Yet again, the great traveller has packed the wrong shoes, developed blisters and scraped the skin off the top of her toes…and did I mention they are heeled shoes, too? And off I go.

At least it’s super pretty here. Geraniums everywhere. Beautiful geraniums, in long rows, red as blood. And the reconstructed old city and new city (which is almost as old)…maybe I’ll just go back there and hang out in cafes and eat ice cream all day…sounds a lot nicer than war monuments, even more Holocaust education, and getting even more blisters trying to find all these places.

Israel tomorrow! Wow.

114 Days: Plain ole exhaustion

I am plain tuckered out.  Was, maybe 8 hours ago, too.  I haven’t worked this hard in a long while.  Sucks that I’m barely making any money, and that in this holiday season, I’m spending more than I’m making, easily.  But it’s nice to have a full schedule.  There’s something refreshing about feeling my body totally exhausted.  From the soles of my feel to the scalp on my head.

Today, I got up at 7:30 am (after less than 5 hours of sleep) in order to get to my psychiatrist at 9:30 am.  For the first time in a long while, he was super attentive, focused, and really seemed to listen to me.  He agreed with me that we’d better switch up my meds, and we considered a few options.  For the second time, by a second psychiatrist, I was offered Lithium.  And for the second time, I refused.  There is such stigma attached to it.  And I don’t want to gain hundreds of pounds.  Lithium screams “bipolar and proud of it” to me, and I just don’t want to go there.  When it was first suggested, nearly a year ago, I did a lot of research…including all the art inspired by Lithium…the Sting song…the Nirvana song…plenty of other stuff.  I wonder if someone as talented and respectable as Sting is, is still on Lithium.  And whether it was the right choice.  Because Lithium seems like I’d have to admit to myself that I’ve somehow lost it.  So, I’m going to start on something called Cymbalta (sp?), and I won’t have time to research tonight, as I’m literally falling asleep as I type.  Good Lord…know what this means?  Time for major, and I mean major withdrawal this week.  Thank you Lexapro, thank you terror, thank you disillusionment…you see where I’m going?  I don’t.  I’m drunk with fatigue.  And starting to jones.

So, after the doc, went to my sisters to help her frantically pack for Italy (I’m meeting her there is just under two weeks), then had a strained lunch with my grandmother where I found myself having to apologize for everything and anything including my mere existence.  And then.  And then.  Wine!

It was so chaotic in the store I was placed in today that the manager asked that I not do any tastings (until perhaps the end), and just represent the winery in the aisles and help people with their choices.  My first thought was bloody hell…I got into this business for the tasting itself…wanting to teach…to converse about an actual product…not be a salesperson in the most direct and annoying fashion.  But you know what?  I did better business today than I did on any other day in the last two weeks.  Why?  When you’re leading a tasting, you’re kind of stuck to your station.  You can walk around, but then the wines aren’t being watched over.  And if you’re helping some people with a tasting, you miss customers walking in behind them and around the store.  Sure, people would have preferred a tasting, I think.  But you know what?  I learned that it’s me, the “expert,” the winery rep, the salesperson, who decides what to sell the customer.  If I sound assured, and I consciously choose what to present them, they will buy it.  More times than not.  Amazing.  Just the power of mere suggestion.  Nothing pushy.  Even helping with other products, other wines, beers, spirits…and they trust you.  It’s scary what an art sales really is.  And kind of disgusting.  Because when you think about it, we’re all prey.  If we’re not selling, we’re being sold to.  All the time.  But hey, today, I was really proud of myself.  I got people to change their minds after they went to the register with bottles they had been convinced to buy.  And I wasn’t the least bit pushy or rude.  How could I be?  I’m me.  Miss American Manners.  In Hellish Tel Aviv.

And then, and then, we’re talking 9 pm, I walked half a mile, got a bus home, went to the pharmacy to get my new meds, and the went to my uncle’s with a chicken and four premium bottles of wine, and I proceeded to cook…for the last three or more hours.  Chicken soup (with carrots, onions, garlic, celery, celeriac, parsley root, and leek…and of course the obligatory bay leaves and allspice) is done…as is the ridiculously complicated quinoa salad that I have become famous for this year.  It takes a ton of chopping and peeling and minute work.  It’s not difficult.  Just time consuming.  Tomorrow the matzah balls, tsimmes, and roast beef will have to find themselves being made somehow or other.  I hope.  Because at 9 am I need to be out the door to my last holiday tasting, all the freaking way on the other side of the city…until 3 pm, when I rush to my uncle’s to finish cooking.  Good Lord!

And now, I’m going to hop in the shower.  Oh how I’ve needed to shower.  For like three days.  Please don’t think me gross.  I’ve had other priorities, for the first time in months.  A “feels good to be dirty” kind of high?  Not really.  But it should be at least somewhat satisfying.  And Thursday!  Thursday!  I’m off to the Ashram in the Desert for 5 full days!

Happy Passover to All!  And Happy Easter (whenever it falls this year…sorry, it’s the first time I have no idea)!

203 Days: Victory?

I did it.  The first true blue all-nighter since college.  The manuscript was printed at 6:15 am, finished binding the copies around 7 am, about a hundred bucks down the drain and potentially the most heavy and expensive toilet paper I have ever had the pleasure of purchasing.  As I walked to the main intersection near me to await my ride, heavy plastic bags full of manuscripts in tow, I couldn’t help but laugh.  My arms were aching quite literally by the weight of my words.

And now I wait.  I am so out of it, my rhythms totally messed up, emotions raw, barely ate in two days.  Got a 5-hour nap in and a meal at grandma’s, and now I’m out the door to see my guy, go to a friend’s dinner late, and just, blow everything off and hopefully relax.  And I don’t know if I can.  I’ll have to get drunk or stoned or something.  Because this victory doesn’t feel sweet.  I feel some relief.  But not much.  I need catharsis.  I want to cry in warm arms without any questions asked and not have it be a big deal.

250 Days: Layoffs, Fatigue, and Love Again

Four people were laid off at my work. An office of 50 people. Now, closer to 43, as two quit (including me), one was fired last week. And 4 were laid off as a consequence of the economy’s effect on the company. It’s pretty somber here. One person who was let go is weighing on me particularly. I wonderful caring man. Early middle age, if I can even say that. Probably early forties. Three kids. Was always at work early. Worked hard. Very hard. Had brilliant ideas. Was a model of the kind of person that a startup should have. Gone. Where is the logic? We keep maybe 10 very young programmers whose jobs are ridiculously elusive to me, and this nice fellow has to go.

I feel extremely tired and empty today. Yes, severe lack of sleep over the weekend, really lovely, pleasant, fun lack of sleep it was. But I have so much to do this week, I want to cry. It’s still all fun. It’s still somehow manageable. But I still don’t have a visa to India. So…who knows if I can go…and whether I should even book any activities or hotels. And I have an article to finish for tonight/tomorrow-ish. An article I love to write. All about food and culture and Israel and recipes. But some time consuming concentration for a few hours is certainly required. And I have no energy.

And then there is Thanksgiving. Which I’m doing Friday instead of Thursday. Which I’m doing in a kosher kitchen in Jerusalem, a very close friend’s house. And I’ve invited some good friends and my sister, all from Tel Aviv. Not only is there the worrying about the food, the shopping, the cooking, the number of people….there’s the stress of it being in Jerusalem on a Friday! How do we all get there? Or, they, as I’ll have to be there from the crack of dawn and that’s OK. But when the buses and trains all shut down…how will I responsibly get my friends there? And will we ALL stay the night? Will they want to? Will it be OK? Will there be room? I wish I could just give them the time and the address, let them figure it out themselves, and just leave the cooking to me. Maybe it is that simple, who knows? And…it’s about 2.5 days before I leave the country (!!!) that is, if my visa comes through.

And then there’s leaving work – making sure everything is done, that the torch is passed effectively. It’s the kind, polite, good thing to do. But I’m tired and fed up. Who knows how the last scramble will be…

And then there is the new man. For the first time in a long time, I really feel a click. A nice connection. Some excitement. But because of the very strange aspects of my week and this phase of my life and the very busyness of it all, this excitement feels too sedate. I want to be revved. And of course, right about now my paranoia will kick in. Does he like really like me? Does he really? When did he last call me? Should I call him? How much should I limit my contact with him? Don’t want to appear too clingy and paranoid… And do I really like him? Do I? Is it worth this? Getting excited again? How much of myself should I stake? Is this an inevitable heartbreak…so just have fun with it…or is it actually a good thing…and I should invest as much of myself into it as possible?

But at the end of the day, he is a kind man. Smarter than I expected. More tender and caring than I had expected. And I think he is just beautiful. If he feels a fraction of this for me, perhaps he’ll wait for me to come back from India. If he feels even a fraction of this, perhaps he might have intentions bordering on serious…

Thank goodness I’m too tired to weigh in on this too much. Fatigue has its uses, too. And right now it’s protecting me from myself.

255 Days: No Slumber for the Weary

Absolutely Fabulous

I cannot stay awake. I am at work. And all I want to do is sleep. I cannot keep my eyes open. It’s that game – looking through one eye if the vision becomes difficult; thinking of things great and small, sexy and disgusting, painful and pleasurable, hilarious and tragic, in order to stay awake. It’s hard to even blog because I’m Iin a small room with two coworkers who I’m supposed to be teachings things to throughout the week so they’ll be ready to take over everything I do. Water, caffeine, nada.

How can this be?

1) I1)  was up watching Ab Fab into the wee hours. Sometimes I do things like wrack my brain in order to think of things I used to adore doing. Favorite books, foods, TV shows, movies, places. It’s surprisingly difficult. When I remembered Ab Fab, I went online searching for clips and landed a jackpot.

2) 2) My cats woke me at 6:30 am wanting to eat.

3) 3) Hormones? Vitamins? Medicines? All three?