Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Lucky Mojo

I have had this niggling feeling that I have lost something. You know the feeling when you pack your bags, walk out of the door, get in the car on the way to the airport and remember that you have forgotten your toothbrush. This is where Boots comes in handy as you rush through duty free.

Anyway, I know that I have lost something, but surely it cannot be something so important to me. My view has always been that you only lose the things you don’t really care that much for; the ring you haven’t worn in weeks and just left on the side of the sink, the extra mosquito repellent you bought but did not need at the time. Of course I acknowledge that there are people in this world who lose their most treasured items, and for these people I have a mixture of pity and ridicule… How can you really lose something you care so much about! Surely if you cared so much for it you would never let it out of your sight. Or so I thought.

TP: So how have you been?
ME: I think I lost my Mojo.
TP: How can you lose your Mojo? You are Mojolicious!
ME: I am sure it was here somewhere
TP: You checked your pockets
ME: First place I looked!

The truth is I looked in every pocket I own. I searched at the back of my draws, in my cupboards, under my bed. I know I had it somewhere…

TP: Ok I will find it!
ME: How?
TP: I am not sure… Let me have a think and I will come up with a plan.
ME: Ok I leave locating my Mojo in your hands
TP: Phew! That is a big responsibility.

When was the last time I had it? It is hard to tell, as it was always there whether I used it or not… Ok when was the last time I used my Mojo?

It was not that long ago was it? I remember that it was around the time my hair grew a personality of its own… Did I leave it in the hotel? I can hardly walk back in there and ask for it back. Did I give it away? Can you give your Mojo away without knowing it? No! Although, it might have been stolen! Oh that dirty rotten…

While TP continues his search I approached the only person I knew with Mojo to spare to see if I could borrow some to keep me going.

JO: You’ll have to ask the Bitch herself. But I warn you. She is not a sharer.
ME: Lucky can I borrow some of yours for the time being?
LM: Er… I don’t think so!
JO: I told you.
ME: Yup. Bitch!

Please be patient with me... I have a Mojo deficiency

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Sleep Studies

This week I found that I could not sleep. So exhausted from all the running around I have been doing lately, I found myself in a trance-like-state where although I could not sleep, I could not wake up enough to uncover the reason for my sleepless nights. The only constant was at one point in the night I would find myself scratching my right foot against my left ankle. Even Nooman commented on my lack of sleep and being able to hear me toss and turn throughout the night! Who needs a sleep study?

So I decided that one night I will consciously rise above my exhaustion and attempt to undercover the reason my covers were off my bed every morning. I lay in bed, hearing The Gossip’s “Standing in the Way of Control” pump out in my brain and despite my best efforts I fell into a deep deep sleep. I dreamt that I was walking through a forest, meandering between bending birch trees with soft curtain like branches whose material was the finest green leaf that allowed the sun to shine through and yet act as sunglasses for my eyes. I was in a white dress and my hair had become fair and was tied half up with a braid running through it. I looked at my hands as they pushed through the foliage and noticed a dark brown leather strap running from my finger up my right arm. It was then that I heard the voice.

Channah I love you…
Awake, I could still here the soft high pitched voice brush against my ear.
Channah I love you…
Now fully awake, I look to my side and I see him hovering about my ear whispering softly words of love. We decided then and there we were getting married. I mean he clearly has a thing for my ankles.

The next night the same thing, and despite swatting him away; telling him to leave me be; even hiding myself under the covers, somehow I could not escape from the now high pitched screeching of his voice.
Channah you are soooooo tasty… I love to suck on your ankles…No one loves you as much as me!
I could see this going on forever, I could see me letting him take his bite out of me bit by bit and leaving me punctured, swollen and itching all over. So I smiled and wished him goodnight… and the next day I did what any girl would do. I killed him.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Lily of the flood

Last week seemed to go on for a century and I was struggling to keep my head above the water when suddenly Thursday appeared. I had plans of Tika Masala, Dorothy Gale and a whole weekend hanging with the Maximus to look forward to, and how I needed it! Work has had my head spinning around and yet I have been standing still for almost two years, so the dizziness churns my stomach all the more and I am left feeling light headed and wobbly on my feet. Why as children did we spin and spin around? I now understand. Boredom.

I have to find a new response to the old question “How you doing?” “All good”, is also pretty boring. But I guess when nothing is bad, but nothing is particularly great, you are left with Parve. On top of that I feel myself loosing my voice more and more. I hear myself and I am bored. I find something interesting to say and I am shushed. I see me, age 5, shrinking in my big chair, under the faces of my family telling me not to be such a drama queen or that I remind them of Sarah Bernhardt. I know that in part neither insult nor intentional injury, and I do not repeat this to feel pity, a fool can pity themselves. I say it to point out a pattern that has encroached upon my life without me realizing it. Have I really taken on the same role among my friends as I have within my family?

All these things swirl around my mind as I lay down for my Thursday afternoon nap before a long and rewarding night ahead. After I awoke I attempted to shower and change for my evening, only to find that the bath would not drain and was full of dirty water. I tried to unclog the drain, but no use. With only half an hour left before I was supposed to meet the girls out I began to stress before regaining my head and deciding that the bath could wait and proceeded to whore wash myself over the sink.

My hair washed and feeling relieved I turned to walk out of the bathroom only to be greeted by water gushing out of the old unused shower and under the door. I was shocked at the amount of water… the noise sounded like a river running down my hallway and I leapt to my feet to try and soak up as much as possible before anything of worth was damaged.

It was not quite too late. The water was using the Twins old technique of when there is only one person to deal with you, separate into two different directions. So I was stood in my hallway naked, because I used my towel to try and stop the water going out of the bathroom, faced with the decision of saving my room or Nooman’s room. I leapt into action throwing on some clothes in case anyone came to my rescue only to find me dancing around in my birthday suit. I then ran, as fast as I could in 3 inches of water without falling on my ass, and grabbed the mop and began the work of saving Nooman’s computer. The water was already halfway to its target, soaking his checkbook and papers left on the floor, taking a bite out of the rug before deciding to snake under the bed, covering his shoes and out towards his study and his massive collection of discs and his new computer. I tried to save as much as I could as I ran towards the head of the flood to stop it in its tracks. As I did I called Nooman… COME HOME NOW!!! YOUR ROOM IS UNDER ATTACK! WE HAVE A FLOOD!!!

Three hours later; after forcing my landlord to do something for the money we pay him each month; crying; taking out all the water; crying; manually moping up the water that had got into the basement; crying; helping the plumber release more water; crying; clearing up more water… Nooman and I eventually collapsed, our Thursday evening sodden. Feeling too sorry for ourselves to give sympathy to the other, Nooman went to bed, leaving me to cry some more alone. A pathetic sight until a friend came baring the curry I had not been able to eat and another with Vodka to drown out the flood and dry away my tears. “You cannot end your bad day this way. We are going out.”

After a night of dancing, drinking and hiding from slimy Israelis, I collapsed into my bed. Unable to sleep I thought about the evening. At least the apartment was clean. A year of dirt never touched under certain beds was washed away and I began to think of the symbolic relevance of the flood. Like for Noah the flood washed away the dirt of our apartment and so too I felt it washed away the stale cobwebs for me, leaving behind a blank canvas to start again. What do I do with this canvas? I think I will paint a picture of what I would like my life to be, but without the high expectations. Instead I will step away in order to come back and be able to look fresh-faced and appreciate the wonderful family, friends and life I have around me.

I have been thinking… If you were to change your name you would be a Lily to me… The Lily is not a dramatic flower like the rose, the Lily is not overly dramatic although it has the ability to be so… It does not demand attention… Its symbolism is both good and evil… it has both capabilities… but for the most part it prefers to not stand out like the rose… It is funny how you fit into the same mould as you do within your family… The one capable of being dramatic, yet never demanding attention when none is willingly give… And then there is Lily Allen.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

A Candle in the Wind

This weekend was a big old funky foo faa for Purim. We all put on our glad rags, in the form of wigs, costumes, funny outfits and ridiculously long fake eyelashes and headed to the roof top of Tel Aviv to party the night away. At least that was the plan…

After deciding that I could be sexy any day of the week, I decided to go for the funny option and went as an over the top Elton John. Now although I had thought a great deal about the costume, the hair, the make-up, the glasses involved in being Elton, I did not really think a lot about what it would really mean to be him… No the men in tight t-shirts were not my biggest worry… I could not remember his songs. All I could think of was Rocket Man.

Now I know that I risk my ‘cool’ status by saying this, but I like Elton John. I think he is one of the best singer songwriters of our time, at least he is high on the list. And no his work may no longer be ground breaking, but it is solid… So why could I not remember any of his songs? Now sat at my desk I can think of at least 50 off the top of my head… On Thursday night however, I struggled to remember that he had written the music to the Lion King! But then I remember that on Thursday night, after 2 glasses of wine with sushi, 2 large glasses of Vodka red bull as I got dressed and the rest of the bar I drank at the party, I actually struggled to remember who I was dressing up as in the first place.

This is not a good place to be and generally I know how to ensure that I finish the night still standing straight, but not this time. This time I was head bent over toilet wondering what the black bits were. It has been a long time since I have done something so stupid, but as I have cut down on my drinking and this was a one off bit of stupidity I will try not to be so hard on myself… we have our reasons… there are always reasons.

Talking to a friend today I find myself thinking more and more about running away. I like the idea of just disappearing. Walking into the sunset and not telling anyone around where I am going… A nice idea… in theory.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Creating Chemistry?

A couple of weeks ago I was at a close family friend's wedding, just minding my own business, dancing with my dad, when a young man took the initiative to get my attention by asking my mother to dance with him...
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I guess that is one way to create some Chemistry... But for you all you boys out there... You want the girl to fall for you? Or at least her parents to fall for you... shmooze the Mama!!