Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Raindrops for the Ginrod.

"A storm band is sweeping over England and Wales, accompanied by strong-to gale-force winds."
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Rain isn't expected to stop..for eternity. Suddenly, Sky news has become my meteorologist as I gear up for my first trip to London.
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One thing about living in the Mediterranean: you live in a country of good food, the Sea, Red wine, a bit of "conflict", and Sun sun sun. The heat, well- that's another story. For the most part, any trip outside of your country is a downgrade. So, this trip to London, well- I'm a little excited about it- I haven't seen rain for months, and this is a really good excuse to buy a pair of obnoxious rain boots. It's A nice reason to shop a little more with money I don't have, and to sleep in and read. Albeit, the trip is only a few days, but maybe the rains of England will allow me to relive the nostalgia of rainy, Oklahoma Aprils, full of tornado drills and flash floods.
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I'm drinking hot cocoa in my mind just thinking about it!

Monday, June 25, 2007

Bronchitis, my best friend.

I was just lectured by my co-workers at the importance of finishing off my entire box of antibiotics. "That's 10 days!!" I exclaim as they just stare at me with serious, nodding heads. "If you don't finish your medicine.." starts one of my co-workers, "...you're contributing to the sickness of THE WORLD", she finishes off as my auburn co-worker adds: "See this box (she holds up her box of moxypen and shakes it heart idly) I am finishing it.. seee????"
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Point taken as I try to explain to them that my six month tenure as an intern in Pharmaceutical PR helped me believe that most of this antibiotic hogwash is futile. I will always get Bronchitis, I will always get some form of tonsillitis, at least until they cut the suckers out. I probably didn't even have tonsillitis. My Russian doctor probably has never seen such ginormous tonsils, and therefore, disregarded that instead of being an XL tonsil freak, he simply assumed they were just infected. No worries on my end. My medicine is a confirmation of my lack of lust for just about anything. This Ginrod isn't at full throttle.
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Especially the heat.
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"Yesh lach chom? (Do you have a fever?)" The Dr. asked me. "Listen, these days- I can't tell if i'm sweating due to the humidity outside or because of this never ending sickness." I tell him.
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Dr. Man doesn't speak English. So I hesitate for a second. "ergh- Hayom lo kmo, pause...hesitation... bayamim ..uh uh...haahronim. aval , ehhhhhh- um... ze yachol lehiot hahom."
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He nods as he prints out my prescription. I'm still sweating, after all- it's only in the mid-nineties outside.
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I mean, its not like it's Bangkok. You know.. like.. ha!

Friday, June 22, 2007

My Job Interview

Boss man: So what's the weirdest thing you do?
Me: I tend to rock myself with my bum for meditation
Boss man: really?
Me: maybe I shouldn't have shared that...

Monday, June 18, 2007

Teach me how to save.

World's most expensive cities 2007
1. Moscow
2. London
3. Seoul
4. Tokyo
5. Hong Kong
6. Copenhagen
7. Geneva
8. Osaka
9. Zurich
10. Oslo
11. Milan
12. St. Petersburg
13. Paris
14. Singapore
15. New York City
16. Dublin
17. Tel Aviv
18. Rome
19. Vienna
20. Beijing

I am not surprised. I reside in the 17th most expensive city in the world and I tend to believe I made more money as a waitress in Tulsa. I knew this was an expensive city when my stick of Dove deodorant cost me about $7.00. "This doesn't seem right" I lightly thought to myself at the time.
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AM/PM supermarkets. You can go to a steak restaurant for dinner on the cash you spend for a small brunch for two in that silly market.
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This list just confirms my need to have a donor just so I can live here. Applicants, please send your offers to susi.doring@gmail.com
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Thanks.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

From There to Here

I think the town I was born in is bigger than this place..

Sing a song about the heartland.

All is takes is an acoustic guitar and a beautiful poem as lyrics and I am a stream of tears.
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It's official, I am homesick.
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Let me watch beautiful babies with smooth skin crawling along the tiled floor and my heart aches for hours after.
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The world does become that beautiful.
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I walked out of my apartment today and a pair of birds wings were lying below my mailbox. They come off, just like that. The body of the bird a hearty meal for the feral cats that sleep on the warm hoods of freshly parked cars. This is the world- a never ending cycle of death and life.
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My mind browses through memories as of late. The pain of two years ago is being locked away and the more I keep it hidden, my heart swells with homesickness. I feel a bit mean, locking it up, but all I can think about how homesick I tend to be at the moment, so -if one is a result of the other, I am unable create my solution at the moment. Suddenly, I focus on cold-food recipes. What I should make for lunch on Fri, August 3. For brunch. "It will be so hot by then", I think to myself.
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I can't help be curious to experience all that I will in between. P Bonez and I received an wedding invitation from a mutual friend. It was in Portuguese, English, and Hebrew. "Only in Israel would we receive a trilingual invitation!!" I joyfully exclaim. "It's ridiculously beautiful!!"
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And this is how it is: Laughter? Often. Heartache. always. -you can't fully laugh and mean it until you know how to fully cry.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Parking No No No

A good friend of mine, Sabra, posted a meme of 12 things you love about Israel. I haven't gotten around to it, but above anything, my favorite is: Laws are a mere suggestion in Israel. Nothing rules us in Israel. Motorists ride their bikes through the park. Cars veer in front of you with no signalling, people cut in line with a shove.. then there's parking. My apartment is on the "illegal" side of the road. It stops no one. They often park in a fashion where I can't leave my apartment. They pack me in my walkway.. often, i have carried my bike OVER the car to get out. Tonight.... it was the Ginrod retaliation.
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If laws are merely a suggestion in Israel. Then here's mine:













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Thursday, June 14, 2007

Peace and Pornography

Shimon Peres is president. I know it sounds a bit crazy, but I've kind of held off of my opinions on politics. I don't know the politicians and there's always something awry going on. Either way, I like the fact that Peres is in. Kind of gives me the feeling that I got when Clinton was president. Maybe because I've been trying to find a way to weasel myself to work in his Institute for Peace. Perhaps it's because he has protexia with what seems like a lot of major Footballers. Either way, it's quite- cute.
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On a very UN-cute note: Iran has passed a bill to execute porn stars. "producers of pornographic works and main elements in their production are considered corrupter of the world and could be sentenced to punishment as corrupter of the world."
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Such unexpected news to read. I don't know if I have any opinion other than it's just plain odd to read such things. I've never thought of giving porn stars the death penalty. I'm sure Jenna Jameson is relieved she's American. As well as 58.56% of the world's male population.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Galapagos, here i come

I am compiling a list in my head of what I really really want to do. Most of the things I want in life are completely feasible. They just take a bit of effort and patience with some strawberries on top.
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I have researched the possibility of one day spending some good time in the Galapagos islands and realized since I am not a research scientist- well, it's not feasible to receive a grant. (and the grant for writing a children's book has already been thought of.)

The Galapagos seems like a far fetched dream. So in respect of my far fetched dream, I have decided to stop pronouncing the letter "T" as well as never throwing away my used tea bags, and washing all my tennis shoes in rose water.
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These efforts will inevitably lead me to my dream. I know it.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Spirognificent.

The Blogosphere just got a little more funny with the addition of one of my best friends in the Peace Corps, Seth.

Pa

Daughters, kiss your fathers.
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After the deaths. I studied extensively on grief and the coping mechanisms. The duration of "healing", of "filtering". I believe I read something from Kuebler-Ross explaining that when an individual experiences two deaths near one another, the individual can only mourn one loss at a time. The average cycle of mourning an individual close to you runs about 2 years. Depending on the individual of course.
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I scoffed at that thought. 4 years of grieving? Ridiculous. I am too young to waste such time.
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As of late, the rose gardens in Hayakorn park are a friendly reminder of my father. Last weekend in Jerusalem, there was a rag-time band playing in a square, near the market, The duo were wearing red-striped vests, one being what Santa would look like in the summer. "My dad would love this!" I tell P Bonez. We stroll down Jaffo street and a violinist is playing with a keyboardist. "Oh, if dad could see this, he would stand until they finished their session!" I mention again.
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The elderly men on their bikes through the park are quick images of my father zipping past me.
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As my brother mentioned: I miss his direction. I miss the "Susi darling, I'm proud of you" and the "stop being so hard headed O'Daughter of mine and be responsible, when I was walking 12 miles in the snow as the Americans were bombing Berlin, I never had such thoughts."
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I am finally making decisions on my own and would give all my life savings for a drop of my father's presence. Just a drop of it. It's quite lonely without him in this world. A world he seemed enjoy the beauty of. I guess this is what entails in growing up, being able to miss something or someone and still go about your daily life, and keeping your daily light burning.
xx

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Outsourcing my boredom.

The heatwave in Tel Aviv feels like a 500 pound gorilla has sat on my back. His hairy fur suffocating me with heat and density. I think he stuck a nostril on top of my head and took away all the fresh air in my body, replacing it with a thick, syrup for breath.
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There is a car horn that has been going off since approx 15:09 (it's 16:11 now). I am currently trapped in my jail, i mean cubicle- listening to the Little Miss Sunshine soundtrack on my Nano.
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Needless to say, If in Israel Sundays are our Mondays, this Sunday sucks a**. I wearily asked a friend if this is what the entire summer would be like. "No, it's 5 degrees hotter than usual, this is an exception" he tries to reassure me. The last time I have been traumatized with such heat was March 2005, Bangkok. I would only leave my hotel to walk to my office or buy a medium-sized Mango-flavored Icee from 7-11. Mango flavored. It was heaven on my warm tongue.
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Now I ride the elevator with the fear that the smell of wires burning would leave me stranded in a metal box, with only my dark reflection in the mirror to keep me company.
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Did I mention this Sunday has me totally unimpressed? "Bring back my weekend!!@#$%!" my mind echoes into the dark cave of my day. "Give me whiskey and warm kisses and long, afternoon naps" it echoes back to me.
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As a friend has mentioned from her box via MSN: "Desk Jobs Should Be Illegal". My only reply: My desk job makes me feel like I have outsourced my self- flagellation.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Canter well my sweet.

The first thought in my head this morning was "ahhh.... it's my birthday" as the light electronic Jazz music melody went off from my cell phone. Dreams of being woken up slowly with soft kisses began to vanish when I realized in fact it was not my birthday & i was alone in my bed.
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My backside aches from my newest accomplishment: learning how to canter with my horse, who coincidentally was named just like my childhood best friend: Grace. As I have learned, to canter is more than a trot and less than a gallop. Three footfalls per stride as opposed to the four of the gallop, more of a wooshy feeling than the clippity-clop of the trot trot. It is only when I begun to canter that I became too aware that this beast below me could crush me if we fell.
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I still can't get over the fact that i'm a born Texan who is learning to ride properly at the age of 26 in the Middle East.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

500 years of Potraits

Something my sister sent. I can understand why some people could find this a little boring. But for some reason, I was completely entertained.


Monday, June 04, 2007

Chinese water torcher

Chinese water torcher sounds like a beach vacation compared to this vanilla, flickr- decorated cubicle.
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I'd rather chew on a piece of polished cherry wood for dinner than allow the halogen lighting to soak into my pupils.
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With one foot out the door, the skin of my office has melted away and now I see it with a different exterior: Vanilla nine to fiver's. Single women who stay late, Men who have spent too many years in their exclusive office of bare walls and plastic plants. Holding a key to the lock of their office door, a door held by plaster walls that took half a day to erect.
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"We should be proud to have such a key"- says many. and if they don't say it, then insinuate it. and if they don't insinuate it. they accept it.
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This is what it is to be adult. "We are spoiled with choices" I tell a friend. "We search for love when the dough is right in front of us, pre-mixed together, it's just needs a little kneading."
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My foot is out the door. It will not take long. I walk my bike around the corner to my desk and the pedal easily chips at the wall corner. "This wall will be removed, to make room for more offices, so people with raises can feel that their job is worth it." I think. Add another key to your chain, one for the mailbox, the bike lock, your office, your home. Everything must be stored away and safe.
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When the second foot follows, I assume everything will fall into place. As it always does, the element of unknown excites me. A needed ingredient to create new opportunities. But it is without risk. I quote from a close friend of mine dances in my head: Jump and the net will appear. I like to jump, despite my fear of heights. Something is always created with the acceptance of taking chances. Moving forward is, however not really taking a "chance", it's not creating a "challenge". It's just being no?
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Drip Drip. Right on my forehead- Chinese water torcher of adulthood. How did our parents do it? Day in Day out. Out in Out in. Day out. Day in.
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I would not be surprised if a week off would clear out my Noggin'. A few days of digging septic tank ditches for Tsunami rebuilding in 110 degree weather is a fond memory in my mind. Even if the hole kept collapsing from the beach sand. Give me a shovel and let me dig. I'm sick of these halogen lights.
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At this point, throwing ripened mangoes at a brick wall would be art. Cleaning my trash bin would be a soul enriching experience!
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"Summer is here!" I whine, the spoilt Ginrod whine. "why must I be inside 9 hours a day when I can show the world my epidermis?!!?" I secretly want to whisper to the farmers, the horse trainers, the winemakers "Take me with you, I'll be good, the cubicle will eat me alive if I go back." "I sing, I dance, I still remember my cheer leading dance. ack! please?"
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Summer Putzen

The man at the park is back. I made one side note: he's watching the other men on the pull up bars. Today, I packed my camera to catch him in action.
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I'm pretty excited about what the summer will bring. A lot of change seems to be happening. But not the shock yourself change that i have become accustomed to. More of the old school Ginrod change philosophy: "The world is my Oyster even if I have to pry it open with a crowbar, even if I have to sink into the deep muscle tissue of the Oyster and get my hands all kinda of slimy to pull out that precious pearl."
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One foot is out the door from old habits and I'm planning new ones. I'm looking into my bag of tricks and dusting off some old philosophies to put back on the shelf. I found a piece of my old sense of self and polished it carefully, now it's on the hanger drying itself in the Tel Aviv breeze that is twisting through my apartment.
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It's a pretty good time to be a Ginrod.