Mama Zine

I work shifts at the office. I obviously prefer the morning shift so that I can pick up my daughter from daycare when I’m done. But most of the time, I get the afternoon shift. During these days, I have nothing to do in the morning since my daughter is in daycare. Seeing the empty stroller and the empty crib and the empty playpen and my empty arms depresses me to no end and I just crawl back in bed and go to sleep until it’s time to go to work.

The other day however, I took advantage of my free morning to make the most awesome vegetable soup ever – potato, sweet potato, carrot, squash, zucchini, onion, fucking yum!

So then I thought that instead of being depressed and sleeping it off, why not “create” it off? Every time I feel depressed and engage in whatever creative endeavor, I always feel better. And since I’ve been putting off zine-production for far too long, maybe I can use my free mornings to do just that!!

I thought even if it’s just something quick, like a mini zine or a post-its zine, it could satisfy my hunger for zine-production in a jiff. I have just the topic for that and I know exactly what I want to write and how I want to make it.

Next week, I have free mornings on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. Definitely more than enough time to bang out a few wonderful little sparkles of zine magic. Oh man, can’t wait!

Peace, love and Dr. Art is still in business.

Fangs

Our wifi is down and I’m writing this post from my smartphone. So I take no responsability for any typos that may undoubtedly occure.

Our daughter just entered the horrid stage of merciless teething. The other day, she refused to eat or sleep. I got that news when I was at the office, still two hours away before I would be home. So major suckage is not even the word. 

I needed to pee like a motherfucker by the time I got home but forgot all about it. I dropped everything and nursed my daughter. It took care of her lack of food and lack of sleep at once.

That night provided no rest. By 3 a.m. my daughter’s sobbing overpowered my aversion to medication and I finally gave her that gel for teething pain.

Now she’s better, but I know it won’t last. My sister in law’s twins are a couple of weeks away from their second birthday and still have teeth coming in. I’m looking at over two years of pain, red eyes and bleeding ears, and when that’s over, she’ll find a slew of other reasons to cry.

My heart aches for her. A child does not deserve to be in so much pain.

Peace, love and peaceful nights.

Kosher Enough for Me

I read a couple of my previous posts about Passover in past years and was amazed at how clean and organized I was and how not tired I was to clean the holy hell out of my apartment.

This year, I went Kosher Lite. Taking care of an infant involves not being able to clean your house for a wide variety of reasons:

1. You’re tired as fuck.
2. Your entire body aches from handling said infant for hours on end (that is an aching back, hips, legs, arms, neck…)
3. You’re taking care of an infant and don’t have time for things like living your life, much less cleaning your house.
4. Cleaning products produce toxic fumes that are dangerous to the baby and to nursing mothers.
5. Your house gets dirty again within a couple of hours by which time you really couldn’t give a flying fuck.

And so it was that this year, my mom helped me out by cleaning the cupboards and the home appliances I NEVER clean, like the oven and the fridge.

My husband also did a bunch of cleaning. In fact, with his rubber gloves, a bucket in one hand and a sponge in the other, he would have made a perfect model for one of those “female porn” calendars. Such a cutie!

I still tried to do my part – washing the dishes and replacing them with kosher for Passover ones. But then I went back to the couch and resumed nursing my kid. I don’t really do much else. Frankly, I love nursing my kid so much that I prefer doing that more than anything else – writing, reading, watching TV, and definitely more than cleaning my house.

Anyway, the holiday provides no rest. Going back and forth from here to Be’er Sheva is a drag for my kid and her parents who would rather stay home where it’s quiet and comfy and dirty.

Peace, love and I’m at the office, missing my kid

Vikings Take Over the Holy Land

Amon Amarth is coming to Israel.

Read it again.

AMON AMARTH IS COMING TO ISRAEL!!

When I got the Facebook invite to the show, I thought it was yet another group that WANTS Amon Amarth to come. Just like there is a Rammstein one and plenty of others I’m sure. But then I saw a time and place and thought it must be a tribute. But no one would come to a tribute concert of Amon Amarth. Tributes are usually for bands that would draw a bigass crowd like Death, Metallica, Iron Maiden, Megadeth, Slayer, Motorhead…

So when it finally hit me that this is for real – the real band, an actual show, in my country – I nearly cried. My husband was sleeping, my daughter was dozing on my lap, so I couldn’t do exactly what I wanted to do which was to jump to my feet and scream.

I bought the tickets right then and there. On July 27, Amon Amarth tears the holy fuck out of the Israeli stage.

I try to keep my expectations low because a. a confirmed show does not necessarily mean a confirmed show. Cancellations abound in Israel. And b. there is no way that this show will be better or even remotely as good as the Amon Amarth show I saw at Wacken. The atmosphere of a metal festival, tens of thousands of amazing metalheads, a giant stage in the open air – all of this will be lacking in the Israeli show. From what I understand, the venue they chose is one that holds no more than a thousand people. The Israeli metalhead crowd is cool but there won’t be many. And finally, an Amon Amarth show that is not in the open air will undoubtedly diminish the ultimate experience of an Amon Amarth show. I hope that at least the stage will be big enough to accommodate the usual decor – the front of a Viking ship, wooden dragons blowing smoke, etc. I also hope explosions and pyrotechs will be possible in such a venue and such a stage, because when Johan will scream “FIRE!” on the chorus of Asator, it just wouldn’t be the same without simultaneous pillars of fire exploding from the stage.

So I keep my expectations low. I don’t want a repeat of the Arch Enemy show in Israel. Although it was a killer show, it was nowhere near as good as when I saw them live in Montreal. I think that the first time you see a band live is always the best time. I think it’s also because of the excitement of seeing one of your favorite bands live for the first time ever. So any second, third or fourth time you see them live pales in comparison.

I’m still excited for the show though. Just like I know that it wouldn’t be as amazing as their Wacken performance, I also know that they will still deliver a killer show. Amon Amarth can’t do it any other way.

Aside from that, I still fantasize about an Industrial fest in Israel, featuring my three favorite industrial rock bands, Disturbed, Rammstein and Marilyn Manson. Not that it’ll ever happen, but a girl can still dream. Wouldn’t it be totally fucking awesome? I’ve never seen any of these bands live, so I can only imagine how I would react if it actually did happen. I’d be like:

“Disturbed? Oh my god!”
“Rammstein? HOLY SHIT!!”
“Marilyn Manson??” *gasp* *faint*

But yeah, that’s definitely a long shot.

But dude, AMON AMARTH IS COMING TO ISRAEL!

Peace, love and ODIN!!!!!!!!

Welcome to Maternity

The reason I’ve been absent from my blog for so long and the reason I was rather cryptic in one of my previous posts was that I was pregnant. That’s right! I now have a mini badass I call my daughter. I wrote a whole bunch of blogs I saved as drafts on my experience as a pregnant lady. These drats are now saved as journal entries in a digital diary I recently started keeping. They won’t be posted here.

I will say this though. Being pregnant and giving birth (I had a natural birth with no epidural) was the most empowering, most intense and most divine experience I’ve ever had. I feel so blessed that the goddess saw it fit to give me this body, this ability to create life and of course to bless me with this beautiful child. This child is a living breathing miracle and proof positive that the goddess does exist if I ever needed proof in the first place.

And besides that, if you thought I was a feminist before, holy fuck, you don’t know half of it now!

One of the drafts I wrote was a list of reasons why being pregnant totally rules. So here it is.

1. You get to be a total bitch to everyone and no one can call you on it.

2. You get to eat everything in sight, put on weight, and have your doctor tell you that’s a good thing.

3. You get to belittle everybody’s stupid little health issues by saying “Well, I’m pregnant, so shut the fuck up”.

4. You get to order people around and you know they’ll do whatever you tell them because whatever excuse they use to try and not do it, you can say “Well, I’m pregnant. So suck it up”.

5. You don’t get your period! You don’t need to go to the mikveh, and you can still fuck your partner any time you want.

6. You get to shop for maternity clothes.

7. You get big hooters!

8. You get to tell people that you’re God because you make people.

9. (If you’re like me and you hate alcohol) people will finally stop pushing drinks on you.

10. (If you’re like me and you hate cigarettes) people will stay away from you when they smoke, or avoid smoking altogether.

11. You get kicked on a regular basis and enjoy the hell out of it.

I am pretty busy these days with taking care of my kid but I really miss writing. So I’ll try to write posts more often. Just today I was thinking how awesome it is that I managed to accomplish so much. I did the dishes, had breakfast, did the dishes again, baked a cake, did another load of dishes, had lunch, dishes yet again, and folded a load of laundry. And still have time to write this post. I must say I have a pretty awesome kid. I mean seriously, this past Shabbat, we slept for 11 hours! Usually, parents never get that much sleep.

Peace, love and Ima Badass

Fascist Fashion

People are weird.

Whenever they see me wearing something that does not fit my usual color scheme of black, blacker, dark and darker, they say “Wow, you look nice! That shirt/pants/dress is totally in style now!”

I’ve had white hairs since I was 16, and people always regarded me with a look that said “Why isn’t she dying her hair? She must have zero fashion sense”. Yet, just recently, a friend of mine saw my white hairs which tend to grow mostly in the front and said “Wow! I wish I had that streak of white hairs! It’s totally in style now!”

And anytime I walk into a clothing store (which happens VERY rarely since they never have what I’m looking for and I end up buying my clothes online), the employees always suggest things that are in style even if I asked for something completely different. So a conversation might go something like this:

Me: “I’m looking for a pair of jeans that are not skinny and are low rise.”

Store employee: [pulls out a pair of skinny high-rise jeans] “Try these, they’re totally in style now.”

Me: [audible sigh] “Never mind. Do you have a hemp purse with a long strap with no shiny decorations on it?”

Employee: [pulls out a faux leather purse, with a short strap, embroidered with fake diamonds and beads] “Why not this purse? It’s way more fashionable than the one you want.”

This is yet another reason why I don’t waste my time going to clothing stores that sell stuff that is “in style”. The employees just never listen to me.

People don’t seem to understand that I don’t buy, wear or look for stuff that is “in style”. I’m looking for stuff that is MY style. Because, God forbid, if I ever wear something that just isn’t me, I hate every minute of it and I feel like a fraud. This one time I went to a party I didn’t want to go to, but I was forced into going by my cousin who was visiting from Canada. My cousin also forced me to wear fashionable clothes and shoes because she said they wouldn’t let me in the club if I was wearing my regular metalhead attire.

“Good!” I said. “I don’t want them to let me in. I don’t even want to go!”

But my cousin was unrelenting. I wore the fucking ugly clothes and wanted to kill myself the entire fucking night.

This is the curse of fashion. People will force it on you, and at times, they will force it on you so hard that you will eventually give in if only to make them shut the fuck up.

You have no idea how awful I look with stylish clothes, and you have no idea how awkward I feel. And it seems to me like my husband is the only one who understands me because whenever I wear something that isn’t me, he doesn’t say what everybody says (“Wow! You look great, you’re in style!”). Instead, he says it like it is: “Meh, it will take some getting used to.”

Peace, love and conformists

Life, Etc.

I haven’t written here in forever and people still follow and like and visit and view… Not that I mind. It’s nice to know my blog is functioning even if I’m not.

And it’s not that I don’t have anything to write because I do. I have a lot of it in fact. Also, I do write a lot of posts but I keep them in my drafts without publishing them. I don’t know if I ever will. The issue covered in these posts is super personal and even more sensitive.

So is anything happening in my life aside from this super personal and sensitive issue? Not really. I work, I sleep, I exercise, I get a fruit smoothie from ReBar, I go to Be’er Sheva for the weekend, I avoid bars, clubs, concert venues and any social event which may have a big crowd, I don’t go on vacation and certainly not metal festivals. It’s just that my mind and my body is so totally consumed with said personal issue that I can’t bring myself to focus on or engage in anything else. In case you didn’t already notice, I didn’t even mention zine production in the above list. Or writing letters or doing any kind of art whatsoever. I barely even read any books. No, I don’t hang out with friends, no I don’t attend metal night, and no I don’t engage in any form of activism.

Personal issue made me into a hermit. Straight up.

I don’t care either. In fact, there is a lot of shit I don’t care about. Forget politics or social injustice or international crisis. The only thing I see is the personal issue. And the reason I don’t care about being a hermit or anything else is because the personal issue is a damn good reason for it.

It needs to be emphasized that I am not sad or upset or depressed about my hermit status. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I’ve never been happier and have never felt more grateful. Every day that goes by uneventfully is a blessing and even a miracle.

So why am I writing this? Fuck if I know.

Do I care? Haha! See above.

Peace, love and recluse.