i'm okay

To all of those who heard about the bombing today in Central Jerusalem

or didn't hear about it (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/middleeast/israel/8402317/Jerusalem-bus-bomb-kills-one-and-injures-30.html) , I'm okay. I was in my apartment eating lunch while it happened, and my roommate told me.

I decided not to go to my afternoon class (didn't want to risk a confrontation with a dynamite explosion and...well, i actually wasn't planning on going to class anyways.) and I followed the news and drawing instead to keep me calm.

what does it mean to be 'wounded'?

30 wounded and one dead

it happened right near the bus station where i was a couple of days ago. I take the busses all the time. Shit gets real, real soon. I'm really fine. nothing a pot of blossoming tea, a plate of chicken curry, and some Curb Your Enthusiasm couldn't solve.

L'Chaim to Justin Beiber!

The following account is 100% true, although embellished at certain points.

I am beaten. I am reduced to a sackcloth rolled in ashes; my sanity torn like the hymen of Hannah Montana. Is life worth it? Will I hear a baby laugh again? or will i only hear the incessant ringing of my Nokia polytone? On the other line is a Justin Beiber fanatic, whispering sweet nothings into the receiver, coaxing me to offer my body as a blood libel to sanctify the Beiber spirit.

I met her at a purim party.

It was just a one-night fling. I don't even know her name.

I was sitting on the women's side, blotting out the name of Haman like, "HAMAN IS SO MEAN. EAT DIRT!" She heard my American accent and immediately assumed I was a fan. She whipped out her mother's cellphone (this is how religious and/or pathetic this girl is: she doesn't have her own mobile device and has to use her mother's to store her Bieber beats on! Oy!) and asked me if I preferred the trance remix or regular version of "Baby" featuring Ludacris.

"I like to stick to the classics. Regulari, bevakashahh," I said in a half-mocking, disinterested tone.

"I love Justin Bieber. I want to marry. I am love Justin Beiber. Ani rotzeh l'fondle ha beitzim shel Justin Bieber. At ohevet? At mekirah et 'Never Say Never'?"

We did three L'Chayims to Justin Beiber. At this point, I was getting a kick out of this. Look at the sorry, greasy seminary girl dressed up as a tiger, trying to win me over through bad American pop culture. HAH

She then swept me over to the computers in the hostel (Oh, did I mention I spent purim in Tsfat at Ascent, this uber-chabad-y center in the old city? more about that later. i need to vent)

She tried to show me that she was actually friends with Justin Bieber on Facebook and when he comes to israel, she has backstage tickets to see him. Wow, girl. You're facebook friends? You know how exclusive that is? I wonder if he'll drop his hot girlfriend, Selena Gomez, for your pimply perfection clad in a pit-stained turtleneck!

She showed me his pictures and had me stare at his "Quotations" section until I felt like a pedophile for stalking a pre-pubescent boy.

I thought maybe she drank a little too much Purim punch and temporarily forgot about social graces, but the next morning as I was sitting out on the veranda of the Tel Aviv Hotel, sipping tea and eating an egg sandwich, I smelled something that was too strong to be egg. And there she was, breathing down my neck, shoving her Imma's cellphone into my face, blasting the latest techno version of "One Time" (by the way, I had to look up the names of all these JB songs to make this blogpost more specific and engaging....I have no idea who this Canadian Boy-Meets-World is).

I told her I have to go. She insisted I give her my number. It was too early in the morning to fake a realistic-sounding israeli phone number, so I typed it in.

She was the reason I didn't stay for the last two hours of the Purim program in the hostel. I checked out early because of her. I ran to the bus station like Lindsay Lohan on parole. Even with a crying baby and a seminary girl noisily eating three bags of chips next to me, the 4-hour bus ride back to Jerusalem was pure Gan Eden.

Twenty-four hours later and she has called me more than twenty times. Thrice before nine in the morning. TWENTY TIMES!!!!!

Let me put this into more quantifiable terms for you:

Imagine 20 warts on your face. That would suck.

If you found 20 bucks on the ground would you be a happy person? I would think so (except this isn't a situation to be happy about...I am just shifting the perspective)

Picture someone pregnant with twenty babies! Now thats a world record!

TWENTY!!!!!!!! (and a handful of voicemails)

If you were shot with 20 bullets, what would be your chances of surviving. Slim, eh?

Twenty Twizzlers shoved up any of your various ventricles. Ouch!

One Holocaust was enough for the Jewish people. Imagine TWENTY!

I'm telling you, I don't know if I can take it anymore. I tried letting her down politely. Making up excuses: you have the wrong number. I'm in class. I'm in america where calling is 5000 NIS a minute from Israel. I am waxing. I am Justin Beiber (I thought maybe she would die of excitement).

"Aleeeeza, I love you. I love Justin Bieber. I miss you soooo much. I can't wait Justin Bieber. I want listen. I want touch. Bieber Fever! Bieber Fever!"

If only my patience was as long as JB's swoopy bangs.

i just had a poppyseed lassi right after 30 min of cardio

it was sooooooo good

march madness

I haven't updated this in a looong while

and for no good reason.

i just didn't feel like it.

a ton has happened since Joe Seigel: a retreat in an eco-dance-village, failed and accomplished class assignments, stuffy nostrils, new friends, extravagant purim costume ideas, a lot of potlucks...it goes on.

I will give you deets about the Vertigo Dance Workshop in Beit Shemesh just because I already had to bullshit a summary for Shoshana and the Dance Company's website. I'm warning you...it's as cheesy as the gay, PeeWee Herman, minstrel rabbi on "Miracle Days" (remember that, Sahg?! Is it still in the attic?) http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/media_cdo/aid/1276646/jewish/Miracle-Days-Purim.htm

Dear Shosho,

Attached is that summary you requested. When do I get my commission?

xo,

Aliza

Early Thursday night, the artists and musicians of the MASA Bezalel-Rimon group greatly anticipated a two-day retreat at the Vertigo Dance Eco-Village in Beit Shemesh. Though our group had very few expectations, we were ready for an eye-opening, creative experience.The smell of a wood-burning stove and cauliflower curry warmed our senses as we prepared for an introductory session of “contact” dance. Our instructors, four expressive, bright-eyed sisters, gave us a foundation in “contact” so we were able to branch off into our own forms of self-expression. The evening soon evolved into a synergy of art, music, and dance that continued long into the night.

After a soothing Tai-Chi class and a delicious breakfast the following morning, we headed outside to mix the right amounts of sand, clay, water, and straw for mud bricks. We artists enjoyed “getting messy” and learning about sustainable living in an eco-conscious setting. With our mud bricks baking in the mid-day sun, the musicians and artists split into separate rooms for our respective workshops. The artists participated in a project involving semaphore flags to spell out a single word that represented each individual. The musicians partook in an improvisation workshop. When the artists and musicians converged in the main studio, we exercised all we had learned over the past two days in a collaborative dialogue of dance, music, and art.

The workshop helped us articulate our own artistic statements within a broader community of artists. We exercised what comes natural to us in a non-conventional way. We were thrust out of our comfort zones, though the discomfort didn’t hinder our creativity; it exposed our humility. From this raw, vulnerable state we grew together. Witnessing this change in ourselves and in each other, we became closer and unafraid.

We became closer and unafraid?! More like we wallowed in each other's BO, and shit in a hole in the ground covered in sawdust.

It was actually nice. Except for the Tai Chi class where I was paired up with a realllllly smelly, old, Israeli geyser.

Other stuff that happened:

The past couple shabboses, I've been baking fantastic challah. I learned how to braid with four, five, and six strands. I went to the schul nearby the Kfar and met Esther, the jewish finalist in America's Next Top Model. She looked...okay. Her lips were a bit too pouty for me.

challot

Shabbos table

Saturday night Klezmer in a basement in Mea Shearim

I had the BEST BREAKFAST (brunch?) at Kadosh, the BEST BREAKFAST (brunch?) place in Jerusalem. We got a basket-ful of rolls and brioches, an omelette with cheesy scalloped potatoes and labane, sunnyside-up eggs on a fried brioche with wilted greens, israeli salad, an assortment of spreads, two hot drinks apiece, and they come with little butter cookies to dip in your coffee. I didn't even feel like stealing sugar packets, I was so satisfied and felt i had gotten my money's worth.

I visited my drawing teacher's studio yesterday. He invited me because he was inviting another girl to come and see a sculpture of his, and he didn't want her to feel as if it was an invitation for rape. It still felt like an invitation for rape, but I was comforted that I had one on him...having two arms to defend myself and all. His studio is awesome. Located right behind the shuk, incredibly messy, and with an extensive music collection. The 8-foot epoxy'ed sculpture of a naked man took up half the space. He's a really coool dood.

Pesach's Studio

"A Still Life with Cellphone"

Pesach showing us the liquor bottle he intends to melt for a glass sculpture

Pesach just cheesin'
The epoxy golem

I got a pretty mucus-y cold this week. I've been stuffed and coughing like a smoker. But i'm over it thanks to Ricola Cranberry Cough Drops.

Purim's coming up, and I just bought tickets for Bezalel's Purim party. It's held at school and I feel a lot of pressure to come up with an outrageous costume. I had originally intended to make a snake headdress for a medusa costume (the purim theme is Monster) but I couldn't find plastic snakes in Jerusalem. I will probably just dress up as Vishnu again just because I'm making henna paste now and I have those crazy paisley Aladdin pants. (I'm REALLY SAD IM MISSING THE PHAGWA PARADE IN QUEENS, BY THE WAY!) If I'm really pressed for time I'm gonna just put purim on my nipples (pur means dice in persian), and a hamentaschen on my pubic area. Or get a false beard and dress as a rapist. Or my drawing teacher!