And everything comes to one

Friends,

When discussing my recent move to Tel Aviv, I tend to oscillate between downplaying it too much and speaking of it as if it is the greatest thing to ever happen. Please forgive me as I try to stay between those two.

Not long after I left Austin, my friend Sabrina sent me an email which included this paragraph:

I don't know if this is accurate, but I have a feeling you might be lonely or a little underwhelmed about your lifestyle in Israel. Or at least, I think that could happen to me. Because you flipped your life upside down to do this thing and built up all these ideas and hopes and then you get there and that's it. You're there and this is it, everything you wanted...but somehow it isn't what you thought it would be. The thing is, there is a transition period for everything and it will get better. You will meet people and find places and things and you will grow up and change and be happy without quite realizing when that all happened and when it changed.

She's right. Or, rather, she was partially right at the time. I had wondered for nearly two years what this would be like, when I finally landed at Ben-Gurion. I had the idea in my head and when it finally arrived--well, I was just tired and eager to get to my apartment. I had worked so long to get here and I was here and, well, there's still work to be done.

But so is life. I've read it posited that Pride and Prejudice works because we can leave with the image of Darcy and Elizabeth happy and exactly where we wanted them to be all along. Before Sunrise is wonderful because we don't have to deal with the sticky issue of whether Jesse and Celine meet again. (No, there was no sequel. I have no idea what you're talking about.)

But, at least, I was here and I was happy. Making friends was--and is--tough, but they've come along. And I've adapted. I've become more outgoing, certainly.

I've become friends with an interesting group of people. To begin, I'm the youngest and certainly the least accomplished. One of my friends is Louise, who is the one I've spent the most time with over the past few weeks. Louise is the lead singer of Terry Poison and, as a Norwegian immigrant, the only olah I know.

Having arrived in 2000 alone and knowing no Hebrew (she had someone pretend to be her so she could attend art school), she has an interesting perspective on what it means to come here. That's a topic for another day, but needless to say I could talk to her for hours just on the topic of why young Israelis are so motivated. It puts us to shame and it's a great motivator for someone over here. When you see people who are an actress/model/musician or graphic designer/musician/business person, you feel pushed to work harder.

Speaking of work, I've been offered a job. And I've turned it down. I mentioned earlier I had two rules for myself. The second rule was that I refused to settle and, unfortunately, taking this job would have meant settling. The people were great and I would have loved to work for them, but the salary would have been a third of what I could get in the US. Though salary isn't the only consideration, it is, thanks to Southwestern University led student loans, a major factor.

The job was tough to turn down, because getting a work visa (or finding a nice Jewish girl) is what is going to keep me here, and the goal is to stay here. As a result, if I don't find another position, I will be returning home. But if the purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things, this will be greatest. And as alluded to earlier, I'll have no regrets about it at all. I've taken more out of Israel than Israel has taken out of me.

I'm certain there is more I wanted to say here, but the sun is rising and it's my bedtime.