Little one

I so absolutely have no time to write. I have been stressed like hell lately, all with writing.m I have the feeling that in a few years, i will be ready to put away the keyboard and never touch it again…

But I don’t want to loose touch with y’all and not have you know anything about my life. So here goes a shorty…

Ireland: was very very green. I had a great time with Nir but there were also problems – i fealt i had taken too much responsibility and he had taken none. He fealt like he had no impact on the trip and I fealt stressed that he wasn’t having a good time… i cried one day… but the rest of the trip was amazing. High points – Belfast, a very interesting city, and the lake we actually waded in despite the cold. I don’t know if I can explain the appeal of a completely virgin lake to people from the US. Maybe it will help if I mention that there is only one real lake in Israel…. and it’s always barbecue hell.

Work: Started my new job at the current place (hte paper). Things are very different. Much more stressful. I am a full time journalist now and not part time with editing. I have to learn a TON of stuff, meet a million people, every day something unexpected can, and does, drop on me. I have to plan my time minute by minute yet be ready to throw away the plan at any moment if something new comes up. The result is Saturdays and evening by the computer. Seeing Nir only through the slits in my eyes. Stiff neck. Stiff shoulders. Stop the world i want to get off.

Morroco: yeah. I got a "gift" from the paper to join a group of extreme jeep riding ladies to morroco. it’s going to be really interesting but, again, extremely stressful, to spend a week in the desert with a bunch of people who all know each other and I don’t know at all, in a situation where I have no imput whatsoever in anything that goes on. And no privacy. And it all seems to be like one big popularity contest i’m destined to fail. So yeah – it’s something interesting that i would never have the chance to do otherwise, but right now I feel like i’m in the dream where you’re back in high school, on a feild trip, and ypu know you’re supposed to be an adult but you still feel unpopular and uncool and you’re scared your shampoo will burts on your jeans in the bag and you’ll have to walk around with a stain for days… At the moment I wish I could say never mind, i’;m not going. But it’s too late. One of the other journalists said that at the orientation meeting (yeah, they have that too). Too late to back off. Let the ride begin.

The dying guy: I interviewed a guy who has 2 years to live. It really shook me. I don’t know if I was more shaken up by the fact that i had to look death in the face, or by how cool this guy is, even while he’s dying and I am sure he was really cool before hand. I kept sitting there thinking "he’s dying, he’s so cool, why am i not that cool? i wonder if he has a girlfriend, I wonder if a girl woul go out with him at this point, he’s kind of hot still, he probably wouldn’t look at me twice if I was single and he was healthy, how can you think this about a dying guy? I bet he gets tons of sex but can’t get a real girlfriend. i hope some miricle happens and he lives because the world needs people like that, how horrible to be fighting for your life like that – but how fun to be so attractive….". I feel kind of sick about the whole thing…

So now every night when i try to go to sleep, i just toss and turn an I see the dying guy and the annoying girls from the morroco orientation and the nice girls from the morroco orientation and my editor who is not really satisfied with me and the walls and walls of writing iv’e been doing and i just feel like i’m going to burst.