Friday, May 22, 2009
summer vacation-- goodbye junior year
What an intense few weeks! This is the first few minutes that I've had to actually sit down and breathe. First off, I would like to announce that I am now officially a senior! JUNIOR YEAR IS FINALLY OVER. Not that this semester was challenging as a whole as far as school work goes, but finals week was hell. It's hard enough to buckle down and study, but when you live with screaming teenagers and have no where to go, it gets heated and frustrating. I'm so glad that I can take this last week to kick back, relax, and live up my last moments on TRY. It seems so unreal to say that it's the end. I honestly have never felt time pass so quickly in my life. So much has changed and friendships have grown, but I don't know when these things happened! I would like to emphasize again how absolutely incredible this experience was. I feel so blessed to have been able to spend a whole semester of high school in Israel. I took it for granted a lot, but when I think about it, how crazy was I to pick up and leave everything I knew so early in life!
This is the second to last shabbos I have on the program and I'm spending it here on campus with 34 other kids. Everyone is so stress free now that school is over and it should be a really relaxing shabbat. Sunday is goodbye brunch to all my teachers, an art project thing that they do every year, and final meetings. We leave for the Golan on Monday, return Wednesday, then it's Shavuot. Before I know it, I'll be waving goodbye to my second family and spend the last week in Israel with my best friend. Summer plans have been huge on my list of things to deal with. I thought camp was out of the question, but time went on, I started to think seriously about being a counselor. Unfortunately, it was too late, but they need lifeguards, so if I can, I'll take a YMCA training course for the ten days that I'll be in town, then head off again to Schechter. If I don't do that, then chances are i'll nanny or find a job doing something else. So much has happened that I don't know where to begin. I think I'll wait until I come home so that I can vent and share about all my experiences without annoying my friends too much. I'm sure they'll get sick of hearing about all my stories. But to summarize: I'm incredibly sad about leaving, but also so grateful that I had the opportunity to come and meet some of the most amazing people I have ever met. I know that life goes on and people come in and out of your life, but I couldn't have asked for a better four months. For all of you at home-- I'm looking forward to seeing you in a little over three weeks. XXO
This is the second to last shabbos I have on the program and I'm spending it here on campus with 34 other kids. Everyone is so stress free now that school is over and it should be a really relaxing shabbat. Sunday is goodbye brunch to all my teachers, an art project thing that they do every year, and final meetings. We leave for the Golan on Monday, return Wednesday, then it's Shavuot. Before I know it, I'll be waving goodbye to my second family and spend the last week in Israel with my best friend. Summer plans have been huge on my list of things to deal with. I thought camp was out of the question, but time went on, I started to think seriously about being a counselor. Unfortunately, it was too late, but they need lifeguards, so if I can, I'll take a YMCA training course for the ten days that I'll be in town, then head off again to Schechter. If I don't do that, then chances are i'll nanny or find a job doing something else. So much has happened that I don't know where to begin. I think I'll wait until I come home so that I can vent and share about all my experiences without annoying my friends too much. I'm sure they'll get sick of hearing about all my stories. But to summarize: I'm incredibly sad about leaving, but also so grateful that I had the opportunity to come and meet some of the most amazing people I have ever met. I know that life goes on and people come in and out of your life, but I couldn't have asked for a better four months. For all of you at home-- I'm looking forward to seeing you in a little over three weeks. XXO
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
more to come.... promise
AHH. Ever since Passover vacation, it’s been one big whirlwind. I know I’m going to regret not having a blog for a month, but I feel like time is ticking so fast and I want to spend it with my friends instead of on the computer. I wrote a long blog on Yom Hashoa it deleted itself and I was so frustrated that I couldn’t bring myself to rewrite it. All in all, this truly has been the most incredible experience of my life so far. The connections I’ve made with people are too strong to describe and I feel so immersed in Israeli culture. We’re constantly being reminded that TRY is almost over and it really makes it that much harder to comprehend. I feel like I just got here.
I’m in the process of recapping everything from Passover until now so bear with me. It will be posted soon so don’t give up on me. I wish I had a better way of describing how I feel about this program, but it really is something that you have to experience on your own. I’ve grown so much as a person and I see the world in a completely different way. I care more, I see more, and I feel more. I promise there is more to come, so keep checking.
I’m in the process of recapping everything from Passover until now so bear with me. It will be posted soon so don’t give up on me. I wish I had a better way of describing how I feel about this program, but it really is something that you have to experience on your own. I’ve grown so much as a person and I see the world in a completely different way. I care more, I see more, and I feel more. I promise there is more to come, so keep checking.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
pizatsta, two broken tents, and an M-16: five days of the "Israeli army"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBY2WVBmTcY
GADNA: Israeli army boot camp for teens. It was hell throughout most of the week, but at the end and looking back on it I have very fond memories. One of those things that you forget how miserable you were while it was happening. The sad thing was, that 1. the food was better than the food at the chava, 2. I got more sleep there and we had 5:15 wake up, and 3. I showered once wait twice in five days of wearing the same uniform.
We had to count down through every task we did. The mifaked (commander) would give us a certain amount of time to do a task, almost always much too short and make us yell out how much time we had until we reached zero. At zero, we would have to be standing in the shape of a chet with our hands behind our backs. Our heels had to touch and toes out (first position for all you dancers) and if we wanted to move at all (itching, touching your hair, yawn, etc) you had to step out of the chet to do so. If we made a mistake, or were late, or did anything wrong for that matter, we were punished. Punishment usually meant running a lot or doing push ups. We were in the field on Tuesday and spent the entire day running, doing pizatsta (a tactic to get to the ground quickly), playing camoflauge games, and doing indian crawling ( I still have a nasty bruise). After a few hours of hell, we walked to a seperate area for our lesson with the mamem. He spoke about gun safety and the parts of a gun while we shielded our eyes from the sandstorm. At one point, I stuck my whole face underneath my uniform to prevent sand from getting in my mouth, eyes, and nose. We looked at each other with worry wondering if they were still planning on making us run back to the base. Sand was literally everywhere and they told us to pull down a sand shield that was connected to our hats. We lined up in two rows for them to count us and she punched our shoulder (a little too hard) as she did so. They handed out two flags, one was the Pluga flag... a flag representing their base and the other was the Israeli flag. She handed the Israeli flag to me. Great, this meant we were still running. The somelet had to scream for everyone to hear her over the storm, but we got the gist of what she said. We were still running... this is a part of the army. We do what we have to do no matter the circumstances. We will do this with pride, and we will do this well, yada yada yada. I just didn't want to get blown away. After a few minutes, we were off. All 68 of us + mifaked/mifadets ran through the bleak desert. The flag flapped wildly in the air, which made it difficult to run, but we had the biggest adrenaline rush. A little while later we were commanded to stop and face the flat desert scenery. The somelet asked us what we saw. She got a few answers though-- sand, telephone poles, nothing. We decided it looked pretty dead. The somelet explained that just a few miles up the road, a kibbutz owns a fishery. "There is always life in the Negev," she said. It was something that really stuck with me. Yes, this desolate desert land is also used to give life to fish... but it also gave life to our group TRY. If I were anywhere else I would have complained the entire way or given up or cried, but instead, I was a part of the living or the spirited in the desert. We cheered and sang and encouraged each other and truly made the best out of a bad situation. This in essence is giving life to the Negev. This is what Israeli soldiers died for-- an enthusiastic young Jewish nation, and that's what we gave them as we hollered and sang the entire way home.
On return to the base, we arrived to find one of the tents completely destroyed with a huge piece of an electrical pole lying down the middle. 1. scary, 2. dangerous, and 3. annoying to fix. It was pouring rain at this point, and my tent still didn't get the light fixed. We put our belongings in the middle of the tent and ran to our group's boy tent. We were soaked. Wind shook the tent violently and we huddled together to keep warm. I know this sounds like some cheesy disney channel movie..like cadet kelly or something, but it happened, promise. Suzanne and Ben started singing and we all joined in as we clutched each other and shielded each other from the weather. אַחֵינוּ כָּל בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל, הַנְּתוּנִים בְּצָרָה וּבַשִּׁבְיָה, הָעוֹמְדִים בֵּין בַּיָּם וּבֵין בַּיַּבָּשָׁה, הַמָּקוֹם יְרַחֵם עֲלֵיהֶם, וְיוֹצִיאֵם מִצָּרָה לִרְוָחָה, "וּמֵאֲפֵלָה לְאוֹרָה, וּמִשִּׁעְבּוּד לִגְאֻלָּה, הַשְׁתָּא בַּעֲגָלָא וּבִזְמַן קָרִיב, וְנֹאמַר אָמֵן. This translates to "Our brothers the whole house of Israel, who are in distress and captivity, who wander over sea and over land -- may God have mercy on them, and bring them from distress to comfort, from darkness to light, from slavery to redemption, now, swiftly, and soon. And let us say: Amen." We didn't choose this song because of it's meaning, but when i looked up the translation, I find it so fitting. Sure, GADNA was trying, and difficult at times, but it's not real. If things got really bad, we would bus home. Unfortunately, real soldier do not have it this easy as you all know. Soldier like Gilad Shalit are being held captive god knows where and having god knows what happen to them. We went on singing for about twenty minutes until the mifaked came back in. We sat on the beds in a semi circle facing him. He looked very serious and held up an Israeli flag. He asked us what it meant to us. I told him that I felt more connected to it than I do to the American flag. Almost everyone agreed. We talked about it for a while, then talked about Jewish symbols. I could barely see the people around me because it was so dark and the wind and rain continued to violently shake the tent. He asked what we would die for. Some people said Israel.. I don't really know what I would die for. I think it's something that you have to be in the situation to know. Someone told him that they think it's a better question to ask what we would live for. I think I live for experiences like these. I live for bettering myself and using that to help and teach other people.
After our talk, the boys tent pretty much completely colapsed and another group's tent collapsed as well. We ran to salvage our things and took cover in the dining hall. We were told that we would sleep there and continued to set up the room for the night. It was mass chaos with everyone, their things, the mattresses, blankets, sleeping bags, and the fact that we were all soaking wet. Finally things were relatively well set up and we collapsed and slept beautifully... until 5:15 wake-up that is.
Wednesday-- Nothing much to tell... we had a LOT of classes relating to guns and gun safety and how to shoot and behave in a shooting range. Other than that, we did a bunch of chores, ate meals, oh! and visited the house of Ben-Gurion. I slept through most of the lectures. That night we sat in a circle and he asked us what our mothers would say if they saw us right now. I answered that she would tell me to take a shower. Most people's responses sounded a lot like that. Suzanne asked him what his mother would say. He told us that it wasn't appropriate to ask him anything personal, but said that he could probably answer that on the last day.
Thursday-- Shooting range day. We're in the home stretch. We woke up happy knowing that we would only wake up once more in this tent and it would be to pack up and leave. Hallelujah! We had more gun classes and more chores. After lunch, we loaded the buses and drove to the shooting range. We got out and waited for our turn to shoot. I was getting increasingly nervous as I heard group 1's shots go off. It was VERY loud and I started feeling very unsure and unprepared to handle such a large and dangerous weapon. Group one finished and it was our turn to go. We walked into the range and sat in akshev with our backs facing the targets. Each command led us one step closer to shooting. We placed the head phones on to block out most of the sound. Then we laid down, put in the magazine, turned the gun on semi-automatic, loaded the weapon, and waited for them to kick our foot to tell us when to go. The shouted EISH which means fire, and kicked my foot and I shot 10 times. It was a really intense experience. I don't know whether I liked it or didn't like it. I think it was more a feeling of power and the fact that I never want to have that kind of power again. We loaded the bus again, ate dinner, then fell asleep for the last time in our crooked cots and dirt infested sleeping bags.
Thursday: We woke up smiling and in good spirits. Today was the last day. We organized the tents, cleaned the bathrooms, ate breakfast, cleaned the campus and head off to closing ceremonies. They were held at Ben-Gurion's grave and we stood for about an hour in akshev. I would have been a lot more annoyed about it, but it was the last day so I really didn't mind. We walked back, turned in our uniforms, cleaned the bathrooms AGAIN, ate our lunch of meat sticks and pita and met for the last time with our mifaked. The entire week he'd been stern and demanding of us. Never did he crack a smile, laugh or do anything that consisted of having a personality. We walked over and sat down in front of him in a chet. He stood in silence for about three minutes then continued to speak. My name is Peleg and I grew up in a kibbutz up North. Then the most miraculous, unexpected thing happened. He smiled. We all looked at each other and smiled... confused and unsure. Our commander of five days went from being just commander, to person. He told us that we could ask him questions. He told us his favorite movies, and that he had a girlfriend named Yael. We learned about his CD collection and the times when he wanted to laugh at us the most. We went from smiling to laughing hysterically. Each group and their leader experienced the same weird break through around us and the entire campus was filled with joy. As he wrote down his name for us to look him up on facebook, someone remembered the question of what our mothers would say. They perked up and asked "What would your mother say if they could see you right now?"
He said she would be very proud.
GADNA: Israeli army boot camp for teens. It was hell throughout most of the week, but at the end and looking back on it I have very fond memories. One of those things that you forget how miserable you were while it was happening. The sad thing was, that 1. the food was better than the food at the chava, 2. I got more sleep there and we had 5:15 wake up, and 3. I showered once wait twice in five days of wearing the same uniform.
We had to count down through every task we did. The mifaked (commander) would give us a certain amount of time to do a task, almost always much too short and make us yell out how much time we had until we reached zero. At zero, we would have to be standing in the shape of a chet with our hands behind our backs. Our heels had to touch and toes out (first position for all you dancers) and if we wanted to move at all (itching, touching your hair, yawn, etc) you had to step out of the chet to do so. If we made a mistake, or were late, or did anything wrong for that matter, we were punished. Punishment usually meant running a lot or doing push ups. We were in the field on Tuesday and spent the entire day running, doing pizatsta (a tactic to get to the ground quickly), playing camoflauge games, and doing indian crawling ( I still have a nasty bruise). After a few hours of hell, we walked to a seperate area for our lesson with the mamem. He spoke about gun safety and the parts of a gun while we shielded our eyes from the sandstorm. At one point, I stuck my whole face underneath my uniform to prevent sand from getting in my mouth, eyes, and nose. We looked at each other with worry wondering if they were still planning on making us run back to the base. Sand was literally everywhere and they told us to pull down a sand shield that was connected to our hats. We lined up in two rows for them to count us and she punched our shoulder (a little too hard) as she did so. They handed out two flags, one was the Pluga flag... a flag representing their base and the other was the Israeli flag. She handed the Israeli flag to me. Great, this meant we were still running. The somelet had to scream for everyone to hear her over the storm, but we got the gist of what she said. We were still running... this is a part of the army. We do what we have to do no matter the circumstances. We will do this with pride, and we will do this well, yada yada yada. I just didn't want to get blown away. After a few minutes, we were off. All 68 of us + mifaked/mifadets ran through the bleak desert. The flag flapped wildly in the air, which made it difficult to run, but we had the biggest adrenaline rush. A little while later we were commanded to stop and face the flat desert scenery. The somelet asked us what we saw. She got a few answers though-- sand, telephone poles, nothing. We decided it looked pretty dead. The somelet explained that just a few miles up the road, a kibbutz owns a fishery. "There is always life in the Negev," she said. It was something that really stuck with me. Yes, this desolate desert land is also used to give life to fish... but it also gave life to our group TRY. If I were anywhere else I would have complained the entire way or given up or cried, but instead, I was a part of the living or the spirited in the desert. We cheered and sang and encouraged each other and truly made the best out of a bad situation. This in essence is giving life to the Negev. This is what Israeli soldiers died for-- an enthusiastic young Jewish nation, and that's what we gave them as we hollered and sang the entire way home.
On return to the base, we arrived to find one of the tents completely destroyed with a huge piece of an electrical pole lying down the middle. 1. scary, 2. dangerous, and 3. annoying to fix. It was pouring rain at this point, and my tent still didn't get the light fixed. We put our belongings in the middle of the tent and ran to our group's boy tent. We were soaked. Wind shook the tent violently and we huddled together to keep warm. I know this sounds like some cheesy disney channel movie..like cadet kelly or something, but it happened, promise. Suzanne and Ben started singing and we all joined in as we clutched each other and shielded each other from the weather. אַחֵינוּ כָּל בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל, הַנְּתוּנִים בְּצָרָה וּבַשִּׁבְיָה, הָעוֹמְדִים בֵּין בַּיָּם וּבֵין בַּיַּבָּשָׁה, הַמָּקוֹם יְרַחֵם עֲלֵיהֶם, וְיוֹצִיאֵם מִצָּרָה לִרְוָחָה, "וּמֵאֲפֵלָה לְאוֹרָה, וּמִשִּׁעְבּוּד לִגְאֻלָּה, הַשְׁתָּא בַּעֲגָלָא וּבִזְמַן קָרִיב, וְנֹאמַר אָמֵן. This translates to "Our brothers the whole house of Israel, who are in distress and captivity, who wander over sea and over land -- may God have mercy on them, and bring them from distress to comfort, from darkness to light, from slavery to redemption, now, swiftly, and soon. And let us say: Amen." We didn't choose this song because of it's meaning, but when i looked up the translation, I find it so fitting. Sure, GADNA was trying, and difficult at times, but it's not real. If things got really bad, we would bus home. Unfortunately, real soldier do not have it this easy as you all know. Soldier like Gilad Shalit are being held captive god knows where and having god knows what happen to them. We went on singing for about twenty minutes until the mifaked came back in. We sat on the beds in a semi circle facing him. He looked very serious and held up an Israeli flag. He asked us what it meant to us. I told him that I felt more connected to it than I do to the American flag. Almost everyone agreed. We talked about it for a while, then talked about Jewish symbols. I could barely see the people around me because it was so dark and the wind and rain continued to violently shake the tent. He asked what we would die for. Some people said Israel.. I don't really know what I would die for. I think it's something that you have to be in the situation to know. Someone told him that they think it's a better question to ask what we would live for. I think I live for experiences like these. I live for bettering myself and using that to help and teach other people.
After our talk, the boys tent pretty much completely colapsed and another group's tent collapsed as well. We ran to salvage our things and took cover in the dining hall. We were told that we would sleep there and continued to set up the room for the night. It was mass chaos with everyone, their things, the mattresses, blankets, sleeping bags, and the fact that we were all soaking wet. Finally things were relatively well set up and we collapsed and slept beautifully... until 5:15 wake-up that is.
Wednesday-- Nothing much to tell... we had a LOT of classes relating to guns and gun safety and how to shoot and behave in a shooting range. Other than that, we did a bunch of chores, ate meals, oh! and visited the house of Ben-Gurion. I slept through most of the lectures. That night we sat in a circle and he asked us what our mothers would say if they saw us right now. I answered that she would tell me to take a shower. Most people's responses sounded a lot like that. Suzanne asked him what his mother would say. He told us that it wasn't appropriate to ask him anything personal, but said that he could probably answer that on the last day.
Thursday-- Shooting range day. We're in the home stretch. We woke up happy knowing that we would only wake up once more in this tent and it would be to pack up and leave. Hallelujah! We had more gun classes and more chores. After lunch, we loaded the buses and drove to the shooting range. We got out and waited for our turn to shoot. I was getting increasingly nervous as I heard group 1's shots go off. It was VERY loud and I started feeling very unsure and unprepared to handle such a large and dangerous weapon. Group one finished and it was our turn to go. We walked into the range and sat in akshev with our backs facing the targets. Each command led us one step closer to shooting. We placed the head phones on to block out most of the sound. Then we laid down, put in the magazine, turned the gun on semi-automatic, loaded the weapon, and waited for them to kick our foot to tell us when to go. The shouted EISH which means fire, and kicked my foot and I shot 10 times. It was a really intense experience. I don't know whether I liked it or didn't like it. I think it was more a feeling of power and the fact that I never want to have that kind of power again. We loaded the bus again, ate dinner, then fell asleep for the last time in our crooked cots and dirt infested sleeping bags.
Thursday: We woke up smiling and in good spirits. Today was the last day. We organized the tents, cleaned the bathrooms, ate breakfast, cleaned the campus and head off to closing ceremonies. They were held at Ben-Gurion's grave and we stood for about an hour in akshev. I would have been a lot more annoyed about it, but it was the last day so I really didn't mind. We walked back, turned in our uniforms, cleaned the bathrooms AGAIN, ate our lunch of meat sticks and pita and met for the last time with our mifaked. The entire week he'd been stern and demanding of us. Never did he crack a smile, laugh or do anything that consisted of having a personality. We walked over and sat down in front of him in a chet. He stood in silence for about three minutes then continued to speak. My name is Peleg and I grew up in a kibbutz up North. Then the most miraculous, unexpected thing happened. He smiled. We all looked at each other and smiled... confused and unsure. Our commander of five days went from being just commander, to person. He told us that we could ask him questions. He told us his favorite movies, and that he had a girlfriend named Yael. We learned about his CD collection and the times when he wanted to laugh at us the most. We went from smiling to laughing hysterically. Each group and their leader experienced the same weird break through around us and the entire campus was filled with joy. As he wrote down his name for us to look him up on facebook, someone remembered the question of what our mothers would say. They perked up and asked "What would your mother say if they could see you right now?"
He said she would be very proud.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
The brighter side of fear
My heart is in Israel. Today was the day where I realized that my roots here are stronger than just simply being Jewish. My roots dig deep into the ground where millions before me have walked. My home may be in the West, but heart belongs in the East. It's not like something revolutionary happened. I'm on a usual host weekend in Nes Ziona. It has been a great weekend.. a lot of fun and also a lot of rest. No, nothing out of the ordinary happened. It was really when we were lying in bed after lunch at Maya's relatives when life in a sense changed for me. I'm not sure if I'll be able to vocalize this, and a lot of it is personal and I don't find the need to share on a blog, but something happened. Life was put in perspective as I layed on the bunk bed between two of my best friends. The light of day had been shut out by her blinds and a sleep playlist flowed out of her cell phone. My mind felt like it was screaming and I breathed quietly hoping my heavy thoughts wouldn't wake up my sleeping friends. I thought back to my life at home. I've had a really great, safe, comforting, cultured childhood. I grew up in an exceptionally wonderful family and have the greatest friends. I've always had a nice social life and can always count on the Jewish community to support me in all I do. Basically, I had it made. So why on this afternoon in Nes Ziona, mid-nap, did everything feel so... wrong? I don't want to live my life like I did for the past seventeen years of my life. It's almost too perfect, planned out, and safe. I don't want to know exactly what I'll be doing four Thursdays from now or feel tied down in a society that doesn't seem to suite me anymore. I love my life here.. and I love my life at home. I just don't know how to go back to that mold of how I was before Israel. I don't think I'll fit into it anymore. I'm in the "half-way through TRY" freak out mode. I've had such an incredible, life changing experience so far.. but I feel like I have so much farther to go. How can I go from a 24.7 feeling of community to school, a job, dance, juggling friends, and other every day struggles? I tried to shut out all of these thoughts, but they bombarded me until I had to get up and write. I'm so happy right now, that I'm scared. Can it be that happiness is only the brighter side of fear? Is it just another example of the theory, "what goes up, must come down?" I know that everything comes to an end eventually and that it's not the destination that counts, but the journey that takes you there, but why is it so damn hard to come to terms with?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
wanting 75
I've been trying to avoid this blog since last week, but I guess I would have to come to terms with it eventually. It's honestly been the biggest rollercoaster of emotions in the past week and I'm finally settling into the norm again. Three boys got sent home on Wednesday night and it was one big blur of tears, anger, disappointment, and confusion. Unfortunately one of the boys was Matan, who has been going to camp with me for as long as I can remember. Another was Max who I had just became friends with, and the other Jordan, who I hadn't gotten the chance to really get to know yet. It's such a shame to have friends, or those who could have been friends ripped away from a setting like this. Thousands of miles away from our real family we've had to make our own family here. 75 was such a complete number... a number we all wanted to keep so badly. The three of them made a poor choice to drink on campus. I'm not saying that everyone should go out and get drunk on weekends, but you'd think they could have at least waited a few days. They made a stupid choice, therefore had to face the consequences. The best way to sum up the experience is just that it sucked. Everything about it sucked. All day Wednesday the three boys sat up in the office and no one was really sure if they'd be sent home or not. There was a huge strain in the group and everyone was really tense. Eventually, we got the word that they would be sent home in the morning. It effected all of us in our own ways. Some were bawling, others were silent or cried quietly to themselves. All we wanted was 75. An hour or so later, we got word that Matan and Jordan would be sent home in an hour. We panicked. AN HOUR?! How are you supposed to just say goodbye in an hour? It was so unfair. We crowded in their rooms and watched them fold and pack up all their belongings. Miriam, Mayan, and I sat on a cabinet and watched as Matan's room became emptier and emptier. As the hour ticked on, we migrated upstairs to say goodbyes. It was so surreal. I remembered sitting on Mt. Rainier this past summer with Miriam and Matan talking about TRY. I remembered how bad he wanted to come. I remembered how excited I was to see the two of them at the airport in New York. All of these memories hit me as I hugged him goodbye. After my farewell to Matan, I made my way over to Jordan and hugged him goodbye as well. I told him that I was sad that we didn't get to talk more. He told me he was too and that he knew we could have been friends. It made my heart sink, but also slapped me in the face with reality. Do we ever really know how long we have with a person? Absolutely not. We take so much for granted. Everyday I take being here in Israel for granted. Hell, I even take being alive in general for granted. I was given 74 individuals to get to know, to learn from, and for them to learn from me. I thought I would have 74. Honestly, you have no idea when "the end" will be with anyone. It's so vital that we understand and accept this. It's never easy knowing that today could be the last day, but it's also the truth. How can we take this and use it to our advantage? Never turn down the opportunity to get to know someone. No matter how much you judge or label from day one, you can be pleasantly surprised. This is sort of the experience I had with Max. I didn't really give him a chance in the beginning. At some point, we started talking and hanging out and I realized that he was one of the nicest guys I've ever met. It made me realize how many people I probably passed by at home. How many people do I walk past in the hallway without giving them the light of day. How many potential friends have I turned down simply because of my own stupid judgement? One of the quotes that has impacted me the most so far on my adventure here is "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." It's true. Each morning when you open your eyes think to yourself.. this is the youngest I'll be for the rest of my life. Nothing else really matter because TODAY is the first day. It gives us a chance to have a clean slate and a new beginning. So with that.. what are you going to do with the first day of the rest of your life?
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