A Labyrinth

It has been a long time since I have sat down and wrote prose. Usually, I like to thinly veil my feelings and experiences in clever word play, so that I seem smart, and I can pretend you don’t actually understand me. I am inspired to write prose because I am about to embark on one of the most exciting experiences of my life and I want to share it with you. I am taking a month off from work and school to travel. I have never in my life done such a thing. I will be in Rome, Paris, Frankfurt, DC, New York and Moscow.

I have always wanted to see Europe. I study art, so I feel like everything beautiful in Europe is my birthright. Because I am a nut job, I planned my entire trip a month and a half in advance. By this, I mean I have an itinerary with every day planned out down to the address, phone number and opening hours of each site I plan to visit. And I planned the sites in each day by their proximity to each other, which I calculated in google maps. My friend S asked to travel with me in Rome, and I told him he could as long as he let me micro manage everything. He was stoked that he didn’t have to plan. We love S. I will spend Shabbat in Rome on my own, though I am in touch with the Chabad there and excited by the prospect of meeting other Shabbat observant travelers. In Paris, I will be with H, who is coming all the way to San Fran to be with me. She is not only one of the nicest, most interesting people I know, but she is also a super fun great wing woman and I left night life planning to her (Dear cute French men, please prepare to woo me in the language of love. I won’t understand you but I am not very good at that in English either, so no biggie.). I will be by the parents of one of my friends for Shabbat, which is sure to be a pleasant treat. I have a stopover in Frankfurt on my way home where I will be spending a night and a morning with a lovely woman who is a friend of a friend.

And then I will be home. I have only been home for funerals in the past two and a half years (both of my amazing grandfathers passed in 2011 within 6 months of each other). I am very excited to be home for the living. Unfortunately, it seems God has decided that he wants me to associate the USA with death; my cousin’s mother past away last week. Although I was never very close with Aunt M, since she and my uncle divorced when I was quite young, I am very close with Cousin L. I was excited to have quality fun time with Cousin L, and now it will be a condolence call. (Dear God, I plan to stay in Israel for good, there is no need to have me associate my trips to the USA with death, I will always return to Israel regardless. Yours, O)

During my two weeks in the US, I will get to visit friends, family and museums in New York and DC. On the way home, I will have a layover in Moscow and then the day after I get back I have a final examination in Israeli Art History.

In a lot of ways this is a selfish trip. I am young. I am not responsible for anyone but myself. I have time. I have a little bit of money. In other ways this trip is about my family and my friends. I decided to take the trip because my mother’s father left me a small chunk of money. I was going to save it to buy something when I got married, but then I decided that this was more appropriate. (And who knows, when/if I will marry). My grandfather traveled all over the world. My favorite picture of him was taken in front of the Louvre, arms spread, head back, smiling. I want to recreate this picture for my maternal grandmother. My grandmother on my Dad’s side also surprised me with some money to help with the travel, I will be sure to take her to a movie or a show to attempt to distract her from her depression over my grandfather’s death, if only for a few hours. My paternal grandfather always wanted to travel, but after the army he never got to, so this is for him too. Both of my grandfathers were creative men, a chemist and an electrician, each brilliant in his own way, and they gave me tools. Literally and figuratively, the bag of tools in my room comes from my Dad’s dad. They both taught me to be strong, inquisitive, kind and daring. They taught me to value family but also myself and my own goals.

I am spending my travels with two wonderful friends. I plan to see the cream of the crop when I go home, and take my grandmothers to shows and shopping, and visit with my dear Uncles, Aunts and Cousins. In the age of Facebook, I am lucky to be able to keep tabs on my Uncle’s motorcycle rides, my 10 year old cousin sends me one line emails and my Grandmother laughs with me about underwear via Gmail. But electronic affection can never replace a hug. As excited as I am to go on this trip, I am also excited to share it.

With them, and with you.

I am planning on keeping a travel journal while I am away. This is not to make you all jealous of my trip. Rather, I want to share with you. Not because I am an exhibitionist (although, I do want to be a curator) but because I want to connect with you. Dear readers, in this age of the internet, where everyone has a chance to connect, few people actually create meaningful content and put it out there. I know I am much more foolish than brave, but my connections to you are my most meaningful possession. I am not rich, my looks will fade, my intelligence is relative and romance has yet to work out for me. So, I guess what I am saying here is, if you find me interesting, write me back. Dance with me, because even if the only dance I know is the funky chicken, at least I am dancing.

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My best friend wears her heart on her sleeve. Well, actually, she had it tattooed to her arm. So that she never forgets to put it on in the morning.

Her parents call it her idiot mark. I think its beautiful.

Mine is more subtle, intertwined in words posted on the internet.

My parents also think it unwise that I share little snapshots of feelings. Framing and cropping, cutting out the bigger picture.

Its not exactly image control, because I am not sure what image I am building, amalgamating, amassing. I am not so much in control.

It is not intentional story building nor is it classic. There is no planned ending. And the beginning was less a beginning than a starting. But each sentence is a tiny peak through a keyhole to a secret garden, and perhaps in some views only shows thorns and in others a tire swing on a tree.

A prisoner free. Attracting or repulsing the idea of exploring me.

My best friend’s heart is a curly black line artfully set in her skin. She designed it, but someone else drew it there.

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There is this burning desire to be with someone. It is, that I feel so much more powerful, so much less vulnerable, when there is someone else to share the responsibility and the success. I am so much freer, when I know that my failures are yours, my successes are ours and I can take pride in you. I have so much more to show for my efforts, because yours are mine. I can hide my faults in your glory. I can feel beautiful in your gaze, wise in your thoughts, kind in your selflessness. And I am happy with many things about me but just think how much greater I could be if you were imprinted upon me, if I were multiplied by you. It is selfish to want to be loved, to want to be half of a whole. I hope you are selfish.

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He suggested to me that there is worth in controling my talent and being able to turn it on and off. I tried to convince him that it just isn’t so for me, that the flow just comes to inhabit my finger tips when it chooses and thats the way it is. He says I am limiting myself. I think that perhaps he doesn’t understand. I do not want the control. I like the excitement of the possesion. I enjoy the drama, the need to write when I am told it is time. I like being sculpted and inspired. I like running for the pen, the urgency. I love the explosions, the fireworks, when things go boom. Perhaps I am a thrill seeker. Why would I want to control the storm? It would be like deciding to fall in love. There is some sort of dishonesty in seeking to control the daemons and the spirits. Passion cannot be planned. Oh, oh, he is such a man. I will teach him yet to think with his heart. I will teach him how to be a loose cannon. Surely, there is a chance of a backfire but you cannot aim if you want to shoot the moon.

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