About Me #1: Love

["About me" posts, despite their name, are meant to have some relevancy to the reader as well. See my introduction to them here.]

Yet another unexpected twist.. this was not what I had prepared as the first "about me" post, but regular readers (all, like, two of you) already know my best-laid plans consistently seem to combust before they've ever been made. In this case, I'll even say what triggered the sudden switcheroo: I was dumped today, though in rather frustrating, "you're basically great in every way. Goodbye" style. Liked her, too, dammit. So yes, I'm going to write some of my thoughts about love, no less - in hindsight, the best first "about me" I could have (not) planned for..

Up until not too long ago, I was in a fairly bad mental trap where relationships were concerned: For one thing, they were few and far between; consequently, this made being in one all the more fateful to me. Both combined - it's sort of a chicken and egg situation - meant that every new potential "match" underwent severe scrutiny for the extra long haul.. i.e. "is this the person I would want to be with? Do I really want to compromise? it's my friggin life we're talking about here.." I was ratcheting up cons faster than I could type the word "pro". I'm oversimplifying tremendously here, and doing myself something of an injustice, but overall I would have to admit I may have been a little trigger-happy on the ol' "abort" button. The basic outlook was as much testing her as just trying to enjoy time spent with her. I was disproportionally focusing on all the ways she differed from what I thought I knew I needed. Sounds long-winded, but read that last sentence again - if you're single and wondering why, I'll bet at least some of it applies to you as well!

Anyway, a series of events I won't go into, combined with some unlikely but gradual maturation, has brought me to (what I'd like to think is) a (healthy?) new attitude on the whole issue of relationships, what makes us tick, etc:

First of all, I'm a romantic at heart - I believe that true love exists. I don't, though, believe in a shopping-list of traits that make up the person who is somehow "right for me". I've dropped that one altogether. I believe everything you go through in life, including relations but not limited to them, changes you and (usually) brings you closer to a phase that's right for you. At different stages along the way, you're open to different types of people - all, of course, on their own journeys - with whom you're receptive and capable of real love. These changes are different from person to person and, more importantly, you can't know when you've hit the right phase for which person, nor how to induce or prolong it. When we're there we're there, and we won't know until we see its results in hindsight. Am I essentially talking about maturity here? yes, but not only. It's your maturity and your experiences that make you receptive enough for true love. Or if you prefer, it is all about maturity, but experiences help to build it.

Two important qualifications: this is still a two-way street. Whatever phase you're in, you still have to find someone who'se there as well, which is what makes it so evasive to many of us. Also, I'm not sidestepping the vitally important issue of physical attraction. If anything, I think physical attraction is the only glue that can sustain a relationship, especially in its early stages when a couple are still getting to know each other. Talk is nice but, you know, come on... ;)

Now, I know this is all a little unclear, so here are some of the ramifications of what I'm saying, that might help make it a little more tangible:

a) There's no "The right person for me", there's being in the right place for this person. love has as much to do with where you are as it does with the other person. You have to be receptive to it, and if you're not there, you're not there. It explains those situations when you wonder what's wrong with you: you think someone's a really teriffic person, charming, funny, engaging, smart, mature, exciting, responsible, good-hearted, whatever you like - elastic - yet the spark just isn't there. You're not (necessarily) a bad person for it.

b) Don't think in terms of trait checklists. Give him/her a real chance even if they seem very different to you on paper. You don't ever fully know who'se right for you. You don't know where you are on this route, so yes, go with your instincts, but be flexible with what you've been so sure is or is not acceptable. what you "need" in the other person is dynamic, changing as you do. Also, a lot of the stuff you're looking for in a meaningful relationship can only come out/be built over time. That really sucks - especially for us impatient guys - but it's true.

c) This isn't be-all and end-all. Noone's getting married. (Yet.)

d) Don't moan and groan about your "failed" relationships and stinging break-ups. In most cases they've taught you something, they've made you more mature. It was something you had to go through and, like I mentioned above, you'll only realize later how or why.

I'm aware this is all something of a leap of faith, that I can't prove any of it, but then that's what love is all about anyway. If you still believe it's out there, take this post as some friendly advice from a fellow romantic.

Interim Report: "I Love Rock'N'Roll"!

Banality warning: this will be one of those posts...
--------

Yeah, I haven't posted in a while, I know. In explaining this to a good friend, he suggested I post about that. Touche!

The thing is, after returning from the gigantic tour (mentioned briefly elsewhere), I had been incarcerated at my folks home for a few weeks as I'd badly sprained my ankle. This meant, among other things, watching stairs become virtually impenetrable walls, having a hell of a time trying to shower - you hobble along with one foot up in the air and try to get in there! - and, most importantly, being away from my guitars. This last fact, combined with taking time off from work, meant I had all the time in the world to post on this here thang. Turns out blogging's awefully time-intensive (isn't everything?)

I've since gotten much better, thank you, and am back in the confines of my own apartment, a veritable sea of guitars at hand. So I've gotten sidetracked. But watch this space. I'm not giving up the war, possibly the battle. Or the other way around. The point is, we shall rise to fight another day. A day in which "job" is but an afterthought, and guitars, with their sinewy shapes and beckoning essentia, will be far from my mind. In other words, I'll keep posting but expect sporad..icy? icism? icness? icity? icitness? eosity?*

"You men, always with the commitment issues". WHY? Why make this a gender thing? Listen, ya little squirt, it's my blog and I'll post when I want to / post when I want to / post when I want to.

Catch y'all later!


* I could go all day, baby, aaaaaallll day....


------- !!UPDATE!! -----------

Hah! How quickly things change.. my next post is dangerously near completion. I can practically hear the palpitations.

The Ultimate Open Challenge: the Two-Girl Fortress

OK, I know I said I'd post more about myself, but it's a fast-paced world out there. If something springs up urgently, well, damned if I don't write about it! Fear not (I'm sure you do..), the first "about me" post is under construction, awaiting my next stretch of concentration... Anyway:

I'm going to give you a puzzle to try to solve, and I welcome any and all attempts to crack it, ok?

here's the situation: I go out to a bar/restaurant-type place. As I enter, I notice a girl who catches my fancy. Great! now I'm psyched.. I sit at a table, with my good (male) friend. she's having a lively chat with her girlfriend. they're sitting two tables down from us, her friend facing me, "my" girl with her back to me. and now the question: what on earth do I do?

This is a TGF, Two-Girl Fortress*. It's impenetrable to me. And it exists virtually everywhere I go. Now, there are occasional circumstances that make it possible - difficult, but possible. At a bar, for instance, I might be able to sit next to her and start a conversation. Even table situations can sometimes work, if I can initiate eye-contact and see what the response is. If she sends enough of a "go ahead" smile, I might actually work myself up to doing something about it. But in this case - with no physical proximity or eye-contact - I'm dead in the water. I'd call it a UTGF (Ultimate TGF) if it weren't too long and cumbersome.

Here's my problem: I need a ruse. I cannot, under any circumstances, walk up to two girls in the middle of a conversation and say "hi", without having some reasonable excuse for doing it. I'm towering above them as they sit, I'm cutting into their lively conversation, and I'm still basically nobody to them. I don't care if she or both are single and looking; I don't care how many times you'll tell me it's "normal" and "expected" and "flattering"; I don't care if you've uncovered her secret diary expressly saying she wishes someone who looked just like me would walk up to her right in the middle of a conversation and start talking - I will never feel like anything other than an intrusive stranger butting in. My price for being civilized.

A priceless piece of advice I've heard is to ask to join the table. If you suggest that, you obviously haven't been reading. join the table? Are you kidding me?? Look, I'm aware this might not be nearly as unacceptable as it feels like to me, but I need a minimal level of truthfulness with myself, because I'm extremely transparent - I'm no actor. If what I'm feeling is that I'm an intrusive stranger, I can't try to exude this charming, nice guy who's confidently asking to join the table like it's perfectly natural for me. It ain't. Doing that is like trying to stab myself in the hand with a fork - just can't do it!

I've gotten all sorts of well-intended advice on this subject, but it's all regretfully immaterial to the basic problem: how do i interrupt two strangers' conversation with little or no acting ability? Solve this one, and you've solved one of (my) life's greatest mysteries!


* I know we've said we'll use "lady", but it really doesn't work in this context.

About Me - Intro

I'm really quite new to this whole blogging thing.. I've started reading a few to get a sense of how things work, and one nagging feeling keeps popping up: who are you? I never feel I know the person writing.. I don't mean I need to know anyone's shoe size or inclination on Nietzschean theories of Transgressive Ethno-Hippopotamy, but I'd like to know a little about the person who took the effort to write whatever it is I'm reading. Many of these bloggers seem to be writing essentially to their group of friends - though at the same time they obviously want as many readers as possible to comment on their trip to the ATM or how Gregory and Muriel are getting married. Others seem to write a strong opinion piece and then fade right back into the shadow of their own anonymity.

Needless to say, things come across between the lines - a touch of dryness in "Ex-Brooklyn-ite furious about our defeatist government"'s writing, some pop-culture saturation in "thought I left England behind but it followed me", a certain je ne sais quoi about "Religious Mom X's" - but overall, without a clue as to who these people actually are, they're writing missives without a source. The anonymity has a certain advantage to it for polemical/political-style blogs, where the writer may well prefer to leave her/himself out for "purity of argument"'s sake, but most of the more personal/anecdotal blogs seem strangely up in the air.

So I'm going to tell you, by drips and drabs, about myself, so far as I can tell. now, hold on.. I know this sounds like a practice in sheer vanity, but I'll try to keep it somewhat relevant to, well, people besides myself. So, to be continued. That is, if I stay on track long enough to follow through on this idea and not just write some more about Jerusalem girls ladies. mmm....


----------- PS ------------

I'm working on it, I'm working on it.. The first part'll be up in the next day or too. Meanwhile, read my other posts. They're grrreat!

Them American Ladies

Was horrified to see my last two posts were political, as if what I really care about isn't what all my fellow male hetero 28-year-olds care about: women.

Or can I use "girls"? "women" sounds so old to me - when I think of that word, I see a faded, 1910's photo of a girdled 55-year-old with a shower cap on. But can I use "girls" without sounding patronizing? I'll go with that term simply because it fits the excitement, curiosity and intellectual and emotional inspiration (I mean that!) that you girls awaken in us, far better than "women". You're with me, right? I mean, if I say "I like women", it only works if I slur the last syllable because I'm a toothless 88-year-old blind blues player: "Ah like wiMUH". Sheesh, four hundred trillion words in the English language and they can't come up with something that captures the spirit better than "girls" or "women"..

So yeah, I'm talking about those females in their 20s and 30s, who inevitably draw the attention of us males in our 20s and 30s. Whatever, if you've decided I'm a sexist pig by now, I'm better off without you. :) But if you know what I'm talking about, welcome, fellow 20-39 year-old singles. [in Stewie Griffin accent] You know exaaactly what I mean.

Background info: I Just got back from a month and a half tour of the States with a rock band I won't name. It was a serious tour, a tour tour: 37 shows played, 11000 miles driven (that's close to 18000 Kms for you locally bred folk), all in 46 days. We were everywhere from NY and Boston to Texas to LA to Seattle and back east, east coast, west coast, midwest, south, everywhere. Hell, we even hit Ashville (not Nashville, Ashville), Tennessee. It was the whole rock'n'roll shebang. I don't mean Led Zeppelin style - we're not big and certainly not famous - but more along the spirit of that AC/DC song... roughing it, the long drives, meager food, sleeping on floors but loving every minute of it.

"will you get to the girls already?" Well, not to disappoint but I'm not going to divulge any details of my romantic encounters.. Just isn't that kind of blog. But I would like to point out the difference, nay, gulf that exists between the girls I've met here - at least in Jerusalem - and those I met over there.

Maaaahn, what a difference. I'm really a shy guy. I don't mean with any self-esteem problems, just shy - it's awkward for me to strike up a conversation with a total stranger. But on tour, I could talk with any of them. True, they were softened, so to speak, by my brilliant performance in the rock band, but still.. I was struck by this culture of politeness that meant I could feel comfortable talking with any girl. And if I thought "hey, I like her, maybe I'll make a move", that was fine; and if not - that was fine too. The whole thing just was not such a big deal. I mean, god, over here, the whole exercise is so fraught with suspicion and stress. you just get near an Israeli girl and they give you this look. Try talking with her - there's always, alllllways a friend with her - and she excuses you with a withering comment. That is if you haven't gotten a squaker who all but hollers "rape! rape!" because she's used to all these other low-life creeps hitting on her. It's hard. It's hardened me. I would never have written something like this - I truly, truly fall into the nice-guy category - if I weren't frustrated at, well, being in the nice-guy category.

It was a real change of pace over there. I could talk to a girl, and even if she wasn't interested, if she already had a boyfriend, then she would bring it up, but gently. Nothing's sudden, nothing gives a bad taste to the evening. They won't blow the wind right out of you and leave you just wanting to go home, like Israeli girls can. We would both feel like we had a pleasant conversation and we're both really nice people and we actually found each other pretty attractive but we won't act on it because she has a boyfriend but it's been very nice talking and where do you go tomorrow and you guys rocked and.... All very pleasant.

So is there anything I can do? Is there any kind of positive action I can take to try to make Jerusalem's Bnot Yisrael (daughters of Israel) a little less paranoid and a little more friendly? No. but if some of you readers fit this description, or know those who do, spread the word: not all of us are lowlife chimpanzees. If you close off all access because you're fed up with them, which I can understand, just remember you're also blocking off us well-meaning guys.

And then we'll be reduced to blogging about it...


------ IMPORTANT UPDATE ---------

I graciously accept your proposals to use "ladies". thanks tafkaPP and Dooby!

Momkiss - thanks for the advice. I keep hearing that (the "be yourself" bit) so often, I'm beginning to think it might even true!

Tafkapp - brilliant. sure, it renders entire paragraphs obsolete, but hey - I enjoyed writing them..

Dooby - coming for you, anything sounds suave. But I know what ya mean..

Angela - you're definately a girl - to you. but I needed a word that captures what the girls are to me - and "ladies" is pretty damn close. now PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR! AND WAVE EM LIKE YA JUST DON'T CARE! BOOYAAAAH! P.S. - All the way from Edmonton, wow. so.. hi!

"They are Trying to Get Rid of Us in any Way Possible"

..said Ahmed Tibi. This is in response to various proposals for electoral reform that suggest raising the electoral threshold to five percent. Tibi's claim is that the Arab sector is harmed in that the three major Arab-sector parties - Rahat-Ta'al, Balad and Hadash - will be forced to merge, thus proving anti-Arab electoral tinkering. Without getting into politics (though, I suppose, who am I kidding really..), Tibi's accusations are unfounded.

Tibi's claim of discrimination in the proposed new electoral systems is only valid if they cut back dispropotionately more on the choices facing Arab voters than those for the rest of the population. The irony is that right now, in sharp contrast to Tibi's wailing, Arab voters are actually more "spoiled for choice", per voter, than the remaining population: in the last elections, the three Arab parties picked up a combined 252,944 votes, or roughly one party for every 85,000 Arab voters. The remaining 2,884,120 had 25 parties to split between them, or one for every 112,000. So per voter, the Arabs face more sector-based parties than do the voters represented by those Tibi is so certain "are trying to get rid of us".

Tibi claims the proposed changes will eliminate choice altogether by forcing the three parties to merge. I disagree.

The parties currently hold 10 seats in the Knesset. the proposed threshold will be 6 seats, and so this would still allow for two large Arab parties, provided the Arab parties invest enough effort in encouraging their constituency to care enough to vote. True, this eventuality will cut back on the choices - two parties instead of three - but is a far cry from no choice at all, and is presumably what most of the population wants in order to bring about a less fractured, more efficient Knesset. That a sector making up one tenth of the voter population will be faced with two large sector-oriented parties is still certainly reasonable.

Like any downsizing, like any act of "trimming the fat", the smaller contestants in the next race will all have to work harder to swim and not sink - Jewish and Arab alike. But there's no foul play here.

Qana, and What You'll Never See on the News

Politics. Who knew I'd end up writing on it.

The deaths of 60 civilians at Qana on Sunday was a serious blow. I think every Israeli knows to stop and recoil from such a horror. While the Israeli army does not target civillians, and has actually refrained from firing in situations of reasonable likelihood of innocents in the crosshairs unless it's a "ticking bomb", Israel still cannot but take a certain degree of responsibility.

If I don't dwell more on this, however, it's only because anyone taking a marginal interest in this "crisis" has already been hearing all of this over and over from all the major news networks. No doubts cast, no question marks, no critical reading, no gray, nothing - Israel's guilty.

(Not just in the media: When I dared raise some questions in the office where I work, I was actually attacked by a (Jewish, Israeli, not particularly left-leaning) co-worker for being "heartless". This wouldn't be the first time that suggesting a picture is somewhere in the gray, proposing there's more than meets the eye, quite literally, is considered inappropriate because "innocent people are dying - what can you possibly say?".)

With the Qana incident, the news channels truly had no shame. When interviewing Israeli representatives, They stretched the fine line between interview and mafia-style interrogation awefully thin. Israel's guilt was so obviously glaring and one-sided to them, it was almost comical to watch. The news channels' glee was quite apparent in having again found a perfectly black scapegoat. Assuming unanimous global agreement for its aggresive indictment, mainstream media could dispense with the oh so boring "fair and balanced coverage".

Unfortunately, all that the news has really been giving us is a blow-by-blow account of reports on the ground and the most simplistic assumptions of causality - completely circumventing matters of intent, historical background, (il)legitimacy and ideological enmity. My humble opinion is that these count more than ever. It's obviously true that a reporter's job is to report the facts as they occur; but this can paint a very slanted picture of the big bully attacking the innocent little puppy...

This is in no small part a built-in problem. The major international news channels will give far more screen time to the pictures of destruction in Lebanon - so easy to get - than to its direct equivalent: the rocket firing at Israel. This is simply because Hezbollah won't let reporters film their daily firing from densely-populated civilian areas. after all, that would be bad for PR... To the viewer, these rockets are mere numbers occasionally running on the ribbon at the bottom of the screen, while the picture of the weeping mother in the rubble easily outweighs it.

With this pictures-as-complete-story mentality, it becomes easy to forget to use ones common sense. A common statistic regularly used as an indictment of Israel is how far fewer Israelis have died during the war than Lebanese, as if this scorecard mentality has ever been used anywhere else*. The problem is, though, that this isn't for lack of trying.. Hizbullah have fired nearly 2,000 rockets by now, which would have killed far more if it weren't for Israel's bomb shelters. Israel only has these shelters because we've been attacked so many times before, and so decided to effectively mandate them.. less Israeli deaths, then, should hardly be Israel's "fault". Lebanon, on the other hand, rarely bothered building shelters.. So holding death tolls as some kind of yardstick becomes very problematic. Meanwhile, the reality on the ground is that Hizbullah is firing over 100 rockets a day, often from civilian areas. This puts the Israeli army, in charge of defending its civilan population, in a serious bind. These rockets are potentially just as deadly as our attacks, it's only that Israel has invested far greater effort in minimizing its civilian deaths - effort it should not have ever been asked to invest. Hezbullah's tactics essentially cause the high Lebanese death toll.


Something else you won't see on the news: Hezbullah members have, in the past, actively threatened civilians lest they try to flee areas they're firing from. I consider this very relevant information that any news viewer should have when constructing his/her opinion on this war. But you'll never hear this watching any of the mainstream news channels. I'm baffled why.. Such dirty tactics, also commonly used in Gaza, have been ignored by mainstream media for years. the reason is simple - no picture, no story. Plus, reporters who were granted the privilege of close-hand reporting near terror groups are wary of giving a damaging report, lest these groups refuse to allow them access in the future. Israel's open press policy is commendable, and I completely support it, but when pitted against self-selecting reporting from the "other side", I can't say it hasn't harmed our image and international standing...Yet another of many ironies here in the Middle East.

The problem is, that beyond the picture-as-complete-story and self-selecting availability of news stories, Journalists continue to mirror these limitations instead of using their supposed expertise to try and balance it. In the countless hours since this incident, no one, on any of the three major international news channels (CNN, BBC, Sky News), asked an obvious question: what were those civilians still doing there? This was clearly a warzone - bombing had begun 8 hours before, and was resumed shortly before the incident. Leaflets warning the civilian population to leave had been dropped well in advance. The Israeli air force confirmed that Hezbullah were indeed firing rockets from the immediate proximity of that building. If I were there, I would've gotten the hell away at all costs; if I could, that is. Needless to say, I don't know and can't know what happened there. But what infuriates me is that not one reporter asked such an obvious question.

One can claim that the "built-in" limitations and biases in reporting on this war are just that - and that thus the networks and reporters are not to blame. But the fact is they consistently miss the opportunity to try and rectify these biases, even somewhat. With a growing trend of self-examiation and "behind the scenes" corners, there are plenty of platforms for any journalist who wants to point out some of the objective, non-visual points I've made so far.

Even if it is discovered that the civilians were there of their free will - for some crazy reason I have yet to guess - why doesn't the mainstream international media clearly and regularly present the other important fact: that Hizbullah literally fire rockets from civilian centers? the closest I've heard to this is the occasional mention that they mix with the general population - which sounds almost harmless, when it's anything but - but never that they fire from those areas. What is Israel expected to do in response?

With Hezbullah daily exploiting Israel's moral stance, who is really to blame for a catastrophe of this sort? The one firing in self-defense to try to save his own life, or the one attacking whilst using an innocent bystander as a shield?



* To take an extreme example, in WWII over 2 million German civilians were killed. How many US civilians killed? a nice, round 0. Disproportionate use of force, I say!

Horrible Report on Teachers Salaries - Declawed (somewhat)

I'm writing on a topic that was in the news! Allright! I celebrate this fact, since I've been reading other bloggers do this with a fair degree of envy.. "They've SO got their shit together", I'd figuratively say, "they're well enough informed and opinionated to draw out a complete theory, analysis and/or rebuttal in an organized, linear fashion". Now I'm doing it too... well, trying anyway..

Ynet burst out with a report revealing the ostensibly shameful salaries teachers earn in this country (Israel, in case you've been napping). The reader shockingly learns that an Israeli teacher in the major cities earns "half of what a teacher in Canada does, a third of one in Germany, and almost a sixth!! of a Swiss teacher's salary". Now first of all, let me be the first to agree that teachers salaries are, without question, pitifully low, and that this does indeed indicate a very real mistake in our national priorities. The horrifics and injustices of our educational system have been covered at length in the media, and I need not elaborate.


This report, however, is fundamentally flawed; and while I have a background in economics (and media..and music, while we're at it), it doesn't take a single econ lesson to understand why. For one thing, it doesn't adjust for prices, or the "value of money", so to speak, in each country.

What does $100 mean? If you were living in, say, Zaire, you could probably buy a mansion and a masseuse for life for around $100. In London, this will buy you a bite-sized muffin and maybe a candy wrapper (well, it sure felt that way when I was there). So by their same calculation, I'm sure you could find an Israeli teacher earns several times more, probably by a factor well northwards of ten, than a teacher in Burundi.. we just know that doesn't mean much. These ratios have to be tempered somewhat so as to be comparable in any meaningful way. Now how we temper figures like these can get tricky - do we use the ratio of consumer prices? or possibly GDP per capita? or average wage, or minimum wage, or cost of building materials, or minimal health package.. What factors in to comparing the meaning of money or standards of living is immensely complicated, and quite a heated topic for argument among economists.

But luckily, there is some kind of usable standard to compare money, that most economists do agree on. It's not perfect, it's quite "mainstream" if you will, but it's something.. it's called PPP (Purchasing Power Parity). I'll skip the econ lesson, let's just say it's something like a measurement of the average prices of "everything" in a given country. So that if I earn 100$ in a country where the PPP is half that of another, I can buy twice as much as in the other country.

So, if we apply the PPP ratios to the first big figure, we'll find that the salary the Israeli is earning isn't worth 50% of what a Canadian is, it's effectively 78%. Big difference! The six-fold ratio given for Swiss teachers of Israelis is trimmed to four-fold by this same calculation; the three-fold ratio for German teachers to a little below 2 and a half.

So, it's looking a little better now, but still not great, I know. And this is no surprise, since we already know the education system here is going to shit. But, bear in mind all we've done is level the playing field a bit so that we can even begin to talk about the same dollar when comparing a salary.

What we still haven't adjusted for is the state of the local economy. I mean, all Israel can realistically try to do is bump teachers up on the list of national priorities, but we can't just miraculously start paying them like the Swiss.. So we have to ask how a teacher ranks, salary-wise, compared to other employees in his or her own country. We can't really do much more than that. Remember the average Israeli plain earns a lot less that a German. If Israel just decided "hey, we have to match wages to those in Europe", it would be tantamount to a 5-year-old declaring he can now play basketball as well as Michael Jordan. Not happening.

So I compared German and Israeli teachers to their countries' average salary. This is deeply flawed, and wouldn't get me a passing grade in Elementary Economics for Hedgehogs, but it's something, it's a heuristic. the Israeli teacher is earning 69% of his country's average salary, and the German earns 87%*. Not quite the three-fold difference they were talking about, is it?

All in all Israeli teachers, compared to other workers in Israel, are a little worse off than teachers in Germany, but not by a factor anywhere near three! Feel free to do the same with Switzerland and Canada - It may not seem that way, but I have a life..

The real issue here is that Israel as a whole may be approaching third-world-country status, and that's another kettle of fish entirely. But the degree to which Israeli teachers are screwed salary-wise, and they are screwed, is significantly less than the headline would have you believe.


* The stats given in the article present an Israeli teacher earning the equivalent of $1117 a month, and a German earning $3575. Yet the average salaried employee in Israel earns $1621, whereas the German earns $4113.

LAnd of a Thousand Rock Stars

More from that memorable trip, this time in LA.

My buddy Q and I spent some time there last month, where everyone seems to think they're either a rock star, a very personal friend of a rock star (by virtue of some work they did for the rock star's label back in '02), or god - meaning several levels below a rock star.

In this strange, strange place, truth is secondary to attention-grabbing headline-speak. Every time we were introduced to people the story would shift. A friend of ours had "just met these guys from Israel on the street", we were "punk guys who have their own teeny underground radio station that plays the Casualties all the time", and several other random permutations. My memory for lies isn't what it used to be. But we certainly hadn't just met, and it wasn't "on the street" etc..

We were shown a good night out on the town by this person. It was her friend's birthday, which we celebrated by bar-hopping, consuming copious amounts of alcohol and the so-called alcohol known as "American beer", and finally ended up at birthday boy's apartment. Inside was the usual party scene, with a clear center of attention: strewn on the couch to one side was a guy with telltale emo hair (front swept to one side in the least natural look possible, streaked), surrounded by three girls. "Another rockstar wannabe", I thought. Everyone seemed to be talking with him or discussing him.

Q and I sat down on the couch next to him, and between Jaeger shots (all that was left at that point) we struck up a conversation. This guy's name is DJ. really. As I was talking with him, it was hard not to miss the black bandaid stuck on his right cheek, with white skull-and-crossbones imprint. Two of the three girls around him had the very same bandaid, thus removing any suspicion that he, heaven forfend, actually needed one. No, this was part of that whole rediculous fashion thing "punk"'s become.

So I started by asking him very basic questions about his band ("band, eh? what do you do in the band? your name's 'DJ'? are you one?").. He seemed quite surprised to be meeting anyone who doesn't immediately fall down in worship. Q took it a step further, though.. [warning: you have to know something about rock and punk, past and present, to get this.]

"So what music do you guys play?" he asks. We both know full well this has got to be some cookie-cutter, connect-the-dots mall-punk emo crap. We were curious what he'd answer. "We play rock, basically, yeah.." "REALLY?", Q leans over with his best fake 'sure I care about you' expression, "rock? like AC/DC?" "No, not really".. "so, rock.. like Motorhead, right?". I'm dying at this point. This brilliant man had taken everything I've been telling him for years about what rock's really about, where its heart and soul is, and was shoving it in this guy's face.

"no, not really, more like Green Day stuff". Guilty, I'm thinking, of rock-star wannabeism of the first degree! I'm in seventh heaven. A DVD case of this band's tour was lying on the table in front of us. Q asks him about it, and he starts telling stories of how they toured every corner of the planet five zillion times in LA-speak.

Ah, LA speak: in this language, whilst grinning and sounding spaced out, the word "fuckin'" is liberally sprinkled everywhere, it replaces virtually all commas and periods ("it was fuckin like fuckin yeah man fuckin..") and attached itself to all and's and but's (and fuckin wow man.. it was like, you know how there's this friend of yours whose like fuckin the great party animal you know? but fuckin these guys were way crazier!"). His friend across the room, with bandaid placed horizontally across the base of his nose giving him that intellectual, boxer look, grunts in agreement. It was a rather amusing sight.

When our "friend" DJ returns to the issue of the DVD, Q eggs him on. He starts getting all faux-excited, and finally says "oh my god, I've GOT to have that DVD!". I know this guy. he'd never talk like this to anyone. It was hysterical.

Anyway, I'm not really going anywhere with this. I guess you had to be there!

Hypothermic in London

A tale of loss, the human condition and irresistable urges, all in beautiful London.

I love London. I've been to New York and LA, but London just cries out "me!" like no other. Everything a through-and-through urbanite like myself would want, without the loneliness and insignifigance I feel radiating from the other two. On the way back to Israel, my friend - we'll call him "Q", heh heh - and I had a 20-hour stopover there before heading back to the land where everyone's doing you a favor...

What would transpire in that time was completely unplanned, which is what made it so fun. Q and I showed up, met up with a friend of his - she was terrific to be with, a party animal yet somehow without an ounce of potentially offputting hedonism - hit some bars, met another friend and we were all having a great time until.. curfew hour came. 11 o'clock tick-tock, that was it! The bars shut down faster than government agency computers at 1 PM.

So, she invited us over to her place. We took a bus down near her area, turned some streets, and then walked down a row of identical-looking London red-brick houses, into one, up to the top floor, and into her apartment. At this point I feel I must point out that NOTHING HAPPENED, so all pervs can lay down their, ahem, arms. But it was still very enjoyable, the perfect end to our trip. We spoke late into the night on issues of punk, Israeli "legal alien" dilemmas, memories from the mother-land, and a fair share of politics in light of the new post-modern relativist thing going on. Sometime I've got to write my views on that. remind me. Riiight. Anyway, it gets time to leave. 3 AM, 4 hours to go to our flight, and we have to get back to our temporary pad, pack and catch a bus over to the airport. This is when things start going awry.

We step out into the cold, backtrack whence we came, and it hits me - I forgot my glasses at her place.

These are not cheap. and I need them. No problem, I figure, we'll go back and find her apartment. Easier said than done! We never took her proper address. There were around 10 apartments, and all I could remember was that this place wasn't one of the first two. So we're talking anywhere between apartments 3 and 9. It's freezing. To make matters worse, neither of us had the girl's number OR a cellphone, rendering any calls for help simultaneously useless and impossible. So, as Q paces to battle impending hypothermia, I run around buzzing top-floor apartments at 3AM. "Excuse me, sir, I'm sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but I've left something important in the apartment next door and for some reason they don't answer. If you could just buzz me in..." Must've been fun for them to hear.

4 buildings, three out-and-out curse-sessions, one classic "do you have any idea what time it is?!!", and an "I doubt that very much, the woman next door is very old" later, I finally hit the right button. Several times. Apparently this terrified the girls half to death and they greeted me with a knife and a carefully aimed deoderant stick. That's a stick, not spray, which they had planned to throw at me. this plan was based on the assumption that as a highly-trained lethal assasin, I'd be so overtaken by laughter that I'd be rendered instantly powerless.

So, time's a little short but we can now finally get on our way. It's freezing, sooo damn cold! figure we'll call for a cab. At a public phone, I dial the one number our now traumatized friend had given me, and the obligatory Indian/Pakistani answers. Many rephrases and clarifications later, he says the cab will be there in "10 minutes". The 20 that ensued were the coldest I've felt since my glorious army days. fun fun fun. The two of us could be seen hopscotching, running in circles and cursing at the top of our lungs.. this was straight out of "Band of Brothers". I call back and he says "oh, sorry, we don't have any taxis in the end", ignoring the fact I'd given him the number of our public phone, anticipating trouble... At this point we miss the once-an-eternity bus that could get us home. We resort to strategically placed ambushes round a major interesection to catch a cab, and *6* perfectly empty ones go by before one stops for us. Apparently nearly all cabs on the roads have actually been ordered by someone, in stark contrast to the rather anarchic taxi conditions back home.

But we're finally on a cab and, with a bit of luck, we're still ok. About an hour to take it home, have him wait while we pack faster than that one Indonesian who had an internet connection the day before the tsunami, and get the hell over to the bus stop. We pull up outside our apartment, and Q steps out of the cab. With a look of fierce determination, sweat on his brow and teeth clentched, he announces: "I'm gonna have to take a dump". Arguing was out of the question (you have to know the guy) and so it was that, with meter running, he spent some of the most expensive "alone time" in recent memory.

Since you're interested, we ended up taking the cab all the way to the airport - the map I used to try to find our bus stop was just plain defective, I tell you! - which cost us roughly half the GDP of a small Pacific country.

But I still love London.

Me? Blog?

It's gotten a hold of me! AHHH! get it off!

I'm 27 (in 2006), single, male, Jewish, am relatively not messed up by organized theologies or crashing, failed relationships (by which I mean there haven't been any), am completely incapable of bullshitting. You'll probably see that here. Love music of the more independent rock variety, and play in several bands. I find partisanship and deceitfulness to be the dumbest, most confounding signs of our time, am essentially an optimist, get excited about down-to-earth people, ideas and art, have a nasty lazy streak sometimes and am not as self-confident as these last few sentences would have you believe. But yeah, I guess I'm ok.

I've had an uneasy relationship with online interaction simulators/enhancers/userpers for a while... For example, I couldn't stomach the idea of online dating services - and I've stuck to that doctrine to this very day! - even at my loneliest. It just seemed like a final concede of defeat. And worse, it seemed to say our lives have gotten the best of us. That we're really too busy to get out there and meet in person, our standards are too high, let's now meet online where we can get loads of information on each other and make sure we're juuust the right temperature before we pop the potato out of the microwave.. It made perfect sense. it was clean, scientific and pragmatic. It was depressing. It meant no old-fashioned romance in my book, and that's what I couldn't take. Every day not succuming online dating sites, I'm quite proud of myself.

And blogging - what was that all about? What induced people to write all their personal crap? It seemed like the same sad story.. For me, stepping away from the screen and out of your house was and is the only reality. Not that I do it often enough, but I enjoy it through and through when I do. All the witty comments in the world, even when coming from very real people, can't hold a candle to meeting them! So why? why?

Here's the real, unexciting reason: I found that I have an unexplained tendency to spill every once in a while. I'd figure I ought to write an old friend in the States, ponder how there's nothing to say ("there's never anything to say!"), start writing whatever's in my head, and find a twisted, sprawling letter half an hour later. And I'd go back and look at it. And I'd see that it was good - not the writing ("uch! this could be worded SO much better! damn 'send' button") - but my feeling after writing it. Anecdotes would pile up, thoughts - some temporary and some reconsidered and revised to the point of doctrine - I had to write something. So here it is.

But people, I ask only one thing: sitting at home reading blogs can be fun/interesting/informative, but don't let it get a hold of you. Get out there and LIVE, BABY! This comes from el numero uno wild child on the block, I assure you all...

No idea what direction this blog will take - political, personal, romantic whining, music adulation, Fugazi call-to-arms - but heeere we go!