Room 101

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Hello EdenToday, I struggled to organize my daughter’s room but got frustrated because no matter how many things I put away, it always seems so cluttered.

So I sat on a chair looking around the room, pondering on the evolution of this room.

We moved to this apartment when I was two months pregnant. We haven’t even started considering a nursery, much less how to set one up. At the beginning, we used that room as a storage room until we found a place for all the stuff we had. Soon thereafter, it became my work room as well as a guest room.

We kept postponing setting up a nursery. My husband finally suggested we wait until two weeks before my due date. But then two weeks before my due date was when I finally gave birth. And so it was that we had a baby and nothing else – no diapers, no bottles, no clothes, no toys… we had a broken crib and a used car seat. Of course, even before we brought her home, we got a bunch of gifts and my husband went shopping with his sister for a whole stack of things we would need.

So as it stands, my daughter’s room is now a cross between a child’s room and a guest room, with a touch of a zinester’s work room and a goddamn storage space.

And we can’t unclutter it.

  1. We need the guest bed because my mom sleeps there when she comes to visit (plus there is a large compartment under the bed for storing more things).
  2. We can’t get rid of my work station because where else would I lament my lack of time to get any zinestering done? Plus it’s a kickass desk which my daughter could also use later on.
  3. We can’t get rid of any chest because my daughter has no closet and that’s the only place where we can keep her clothes and bedsheets.
  4. And as broken as the crib is, we still use it, even if my husband is so annoyed by it he said we should burn it once our kid graduates to an actual bed.

Above all that is a small bedside table under the desk, two guitars, three radiators and a laundry basket.

So feeling completely hopeless by this room being on the verge of explosion, I closed the door and am now planning a door sign with a nice frame.

Peace, love and only a metalhead would understand that title

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I Kill With My Heart

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The-Dark-Tower-Poster-Idris-ElbaYes. I saw the Dark Tower movie yesterday. My husband and I bought the tickets for a ridiculous 62 NIS a piece, but the 4DX experience was worth it! It almost reminded me of the rides at Universal Studios.

Anyway, I went into it knowing pretty much what to expect. I knew the movie will reflect the book only by the title. I also knew that compressing seven longass volumes into a 90-minute feature is impossible which means that the story will be completely different. I mentally prepared myself by telling myself that I am going to watch a movie, not a Stephen King adaptation. And as a result, I enjoyed the hell out of it. Even more with the sensory experience provided by the moving platforms. There were also flickering lights whenever there was an explosion, plus winds from all directions whenever there was a shooting match. I felt as if the bullets were flying right by my head.

The story differs from the book mainly due to the reduced ka-tet. Roland was joined only by the boy Jake Chambers, and not by Eddie or Odetta/Detta/Susannah. It also differs in the sense that Roland’s quest was not to reach the tower and save it, but rather to kill the man in black.

The similarities include the gunslinger’s mantra repeated several times, the famous opening line of the book, the unfound doors (known in the movie as portals), todash darkness (in the movie, eternal darkness), all hail the Crimson King, long days and pleasant nights, the wizards crystals, all possessed by the man in black, and some other more minimal things. I also liked the overlaps with other SK books – a distinct SK trademark. Jake, for example, was a Dark Tower version of Danny Torrence, with a powerful shine. Also, there was a portal with the number 1408 written on top.

I found it amusing that while the book has Eddie describing Roland as “old, tall and ugly”, the movie has the man in black referring to him as “black, tall and handsome”.

With the bullets buzzing by my ears, this virtual rollercoaster ride quite literally blew me away. Stephen King fans should definitely check it out, but keep in mind that this is NOT the Dark Tower you know and love.

Peace, love and up next, IT!

Fangs

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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.

Fascist Fashion

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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.

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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.

I Like to Move It

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At long last, Elad and I finally moved into our new place. It was supposed to happen in January (if you remember this post), but kept getting postponed for reasons beyond our control (if you remember the last paragraph of this post).

We spent all of Friday and Saturday settling in. So now, instead of having a single bedroom, a tiny living room, a tiny dining room, a minuscule and claustrophobic computer room, a small bathroom with a stand-up shower and a laundry corner, we now have one big bedroom, one guestroom which doubles as a work room for me and my zines, a rather large computer room (which fits all of mine and Elad’s guitars, all our amps, a double-tower of CDs, the computer and all its equipment, including a sound system and an effects box), an enormous living room with a nearby dining room, the cutest most adorable kitchen you’ll ever see, and a nice little laundry space. Plus our bathroom, though still pretty small, has an actual bathtub! Showering is so much more fun and I no longer hit my elbows and knees on walls and shower doors when I shower. All that, with the added bonus of a boidem. We have a STORAGE SPACE dudes! So necessary for hoarders like ourselves.

All we need now is a bigass closet (which we already ordered and are supposed to have it delivered on Wednesday), a decent desk for my work room and matching chair, and a bigass bookshelf for all of my Stephen King books (all 50+ of them!) and all my feminist literature and other random fiction. Then we can put the finishing touches (i.e. our posters, art and photos) and we’ll be as snug as a bug.

My favorite things about our new place:

  1. We have had a record player forever but never used it because we didn’t exactly have much space for it and also didn’t really know how to plug it. But in our new place, we put the record player in our ginormous living room and Elad, being the tech wiz that he is, plugged it into his elaborate sound system, and we listened to old records during all of Friday while organizing the house.
  2. Our kitchen has just doubled in size. We got much more work space available, a bunch of spacious cupboards, and a window. WE HAVE A FUCKING WINDOW IN OUR KITCHEN! We NEVER had that in our other one! I love the hell out of it.
  3. Our bathtub is the shiznit. Bathtubs kick ass and after moving all the stuff and sweating my ass off and getting dust all over me, I took the best shower ever.
  4. My work room features the Riot Grrrl bookshelf I found a while back and I spent all of yesterday and this morning setting it up with all of my zines, all of other people’s traded zines, all of my High School agendas, notebooks and diaries, and all of my folders with bills and statements and other boring stuff.
  5. Our windows are much bigger, or at least seem so because the house is so well-lit, so much better lit than our previous place. We also have light switches and lamps all over the place so even at night, we bathe in bright lights.

The actual move may have been a hassle (and wasn’t without its mishaps, to put it mildly) but the best thing about it was finding things that we thought were lost forever and actually managing to put our hoarding aside for a while to get rid of shit that we really don’t need. Like, I own not one but two broken laptops. I kept them for years for God knows what reason. On Friday I told Elad “Fuck it. Just toss them.” It feels so good to get rid of shit!! Oh my God!

Our dog, Diamond, is a little disoriented. On the day of the move, she kept trying to go out the door and go to the old apartment (which happens to be right across the hall from us).

“This is home now, Diamond,” I tried to explain. “Here is your bed and your food bowl.”

And yes, this is our home now. We’ll have a housewarming party, invite friends, install mezuzot, blast our record player, and look forward to much happiness in our beautiful new crib.

Peace, love and home supersweet home.

Schlafenland

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Those who know me well know that sleep is my most hopeless of hopeless addictions. My attempts at getting over it included waking up early to exercise, eating more raw veggies and drinking more water. Although these attempts were met with considerable success, I am still a pillow-lover extraordinaire.

My problem now is that although I love sleep, I can’t fall asleep to save my mother’s life. It takes me a good hour to an hour and a half to slumber away on a good day. On an average day, it can take up to two hours. On a really bad day, and especially if I have tea or water before bedtime, it takes me up to three hours, plus waking up to pee in one- to two-hour intervals. This is also a reason why I always turn down a cup of tea after dinner, or a glass of water after 9 p.m. even if I’m quite thirsty. I rather go to sleep on the verge of dehydration than having to wake up every hour to take a wizz (or just get up every five minutes if I haven’t managed to fall asleep yet).

Even if I am really tired (as I am now due to lack of sufficient sleep), slight distractions can keep me nice and alert for hours at a time – my husband snoring, weird sounds from the fridge or the living room sofa (don’t ask), my dog coming in to sleep next to us on the floor, and nightmares galore. Last night, my dog came to sleep with us and woke me up in the early morning hours because she was dreaming and whimpering in her sleep.

I also try various things to induce sleep: clear my mind, push away all worrying thoughts, find the most comfortable position I can, wash my face with hot water, and read, but alas. Sometimes I avoid setting the alarm if I can afford to do so. I realized that setting the alarm, especially for an afternoon nap, can keep me awake just as well. This past weekend I managed to sleep until 1:30 p.m. Such bliss!

I don’t want to resort to sleeping pills or whatever other prescription meds, but I’m running out of options.

Peace, love and sleep marathon on Passover sounds absolutely delightful