No, you can't rejoin the drama that you quit yesterday despite the fact that I told you that wasn't even an option. Why would you even think to ask?
Why? Why? Why did you buy this rabbit? Why did you buy a rabbit while on a school field trip and when your parents do not have the desire to own a rabbit nor the skills to keep it alive?
Why was this allowed by your school chaperone?
Now you bring the rabbit to me, asking me to care for your malnurished, disease ridden vampire rabbit from hell that looks like it's coming down off of a meth binge and needs a fix. My rabbit finds it creepy, and I feel like a jerk for the fact that I do, too, and it's not the little bunny's fault.
Do you have any idea how many hours I spent creating, printing, copying, and stapling that reading that you lost? Are you aware of the full range of consequences created by your losing it? I now have to waste my time, the school secretary's time, your time, and class time to go get an original and send someone off to get it copied. We're wasting paper and toner as well, by the way... things that not only don't come cheap, but are slow to be replaced. My patience is also dwindling, and that's bad for all of us. All. Of. Us.
How is it that you can be given the answers to a worksheet and STILL. GET. IT. WRONG.
Woman. Is there honestly nothing that you can do to TRY, just TRY to make this class have some merit for your charge? Yeah, he's going to be spacey. He has a developmental disorder. But - and correct me if I'm wrong - you do NOT have a developmental disorder, right? So presumably you could try to get him engaged in the lesson in some way? That is your ONLY job, yes? Stop just doing his work yourself. I think that you are missing the point of your presence here entirely.
*Sigh*
Just had to get that out.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Don't You Worry 'bout a Thing
Sitting in a hostel in Tel Aviv during a weekend that was meant to be relaxing, I've not quite achieved that goal. I am writing this to let you guys in on where I am right now (in my head - not geographically), and to address concerns people have had regarding recent events in my neck of the woods.
Let me step back to Wednesday this week.
After a particularly long day at work, I sat down at the computer and finally pressed the "purchase" button on the tickets home that I'd been looking at for the last week. Having tickets with my name on them suddenly made the thought of home seem a bit more vivid. I was imagining the little details of my return - what the looks would be on people's faces when I first saw them again, where I would meet people for music and drinks during my stayover in Austin.
My joy was interrupted by an odd attempt to scam me for money through a very clever use of Facebook, and that deserves its own post at some point, but not now. I head home from school and sit down to eat some dinner and unwind.
Opening Facebook, I see a post by a friend of mine who had heard news while walking through the souq that a bomb had gone off somewhere - Tel Aviv, Jerusalem - the news was fresh and people were waiting for more.
I start looking around online to see what I can find. I read that two hours earlier, a bomb had gone off in Jerusalem, near the central bus station. This sort of thing was at one time common in Jerusalem. That has not been the case, however, in many years.
My co-worker walked in, and I told him about the news.
"This is serious," he said. "It seems like there's going to be another intifada."
I thought about it. I told him that I didn't agree. There just didn't seem to be a serious push for another intifada in my opinion... not in the West Bank, anyhow.
The week had a variety of other stresses for many of us - wholly unrelated to regional tensions or politics. I decided to head to Tel Aviv for the weekend with a girlfriend, while another friend - forever in the mindset of a photojournalist - headed to Jerusalem to find out what was going on and take photos.
On the way to the bus stop outside of the Ariel settlement, our taxi driver asked that my friend sit in the front seat for the ride. He had told me earlier this week that he was driving near a settlement and was almost attacked by settlers and had to speed off to get away from a large group of men intending to attack him. He wanted an ajnabia sitting in front to deter such conflicts. I'm only ever near a settlement on the few occasions that I am making the trip to or from Tel Aviv, so I don't know much about them, but I would understand if there were increased tensions after the massacre of the Fogel family. To my knowledge, there has yet to be anyone implicated in the murder, but the sentiment of those in the pro-Israel camp tends to be that it was clearly the act of a Palestinian. We stayed in back, but I could understand his apprehension.
Since we were entering Israel on a settler's bus, and because we are both white, I didn't think there would be an issue getting in, despite the increased security after the Jerusalem bombing. This was indeed the case. We booked a night at a hostel and proceeded to enjoy the freedom to walk around the city at night, not to recieve any hassel from people on the streets, to go dancing. It was a fantastic release.
Less relaxing was my realization today that when we had hurried out of the bar, that I had neglected to close my tab. I was now on a quest to reclaim my card from the place, and my plans to head home that morning were now shot.
I trolled the internet while I sat in the hostel lobby, waiting for the place where my ATM card was trapped to re-open. As I looked at my haven for passing time, I came across a Facebook page called "Third Palestinian Intifada". Seemingly unable to see the page, I looked for information about it online. I read a report that stated that the page advocated a new intifada, to begin on May 15. The report stated that the site advocated the attacking of settlers on this day, which I found disturbing. The advocacy of violence on a page that had been 'liked' by more than 200,000 Facebook members in only a few weeks disturbed me. I asked a friend of mine if this was the case, and he assured me that it was not. Now able to see the site, I, too, see no indication of this. Regardless, simply using the word intifada immediately calls to mind the bloody intifadas of years past. My conversation with my co-worker came back to me.
I continued to try to sort out the issue of my missing ATM card. In the course of this, I found someone who spoke Hebrew at the hostel to help me talk to the manager of the establishment where I'd left the card. After speaking to the manager on the phone, he saw my disappointment that they would not be able to help me until 10:30 tonight. He asked where I was going next. I said Jerusalem.
Him - "Jerusalem? Don't go there. Now is a bad time to go there."
Me - "Why?"
Him - "There was just something bad that happenened there. The whole army's there. I'm enlisting tomorrow. We're going to attack."
Me - "Attack where? Gaza?"
Him - "Gaza and the West Bank. They're pulling all the tanks out. There's about to be a war. They're letting old men like me enlist. They don't let an old man like me enlist unless there's about to be something big."
I'd not before experienced the sort of feeling that hit me when he said this. I felt anxious - on behalf of my new home, my friends, my students... I felt naked standing there, talking to this guy. I had spoken to people plenty of times, using vagueries to avoid disclosing where I live and what I do... but I suddenly felt like it was a very significant omission. I felt profoundly uncomfortable.
I had just been reassuring my step-dad on Skype who was passing along the concerns that my mother had regarding recent events in my area. My words to him had been "I have no reason to believe that I am currently in a dangerous situation." Now I was hearing this, I was realizing that the rockets that were fired from Gaza yesterday landed just 15 miles south of where I'd come to "relax", and I was reading about a push for a third intifada, which has made it to more than 300,000 supporters at the time I am now writing. I was feeling a bit out of sorts myself.
After chatting with friends at home (this home, not my US home), I settled down a bit. I recognized that the speculations of an enlistee do not qualify as military intelligence. I realize that further retaliation against the rockets that have been fired from Gaza is likely, but I do not believe that there is currently any cause for military action in the West Bank. There is nothing that I have read that supports the enlistee's opinion that military action was likely in the West Bank, despite plenty that support his assertion of future action in the Gaza Strip.
Family and friends, I write this not to raise your concerns. Rather, I hope to address them. I understand that there are those of you who may now be more worried than you would have been if you were to remain ignorant of these facts or these events. However, I would prefer that you be informed, so as not to become overly concerned if you were to come across any of this on your own without having heard anything on this from me. I understand that this is not likely to leave you feeling relaxed, either. I hope that you will put your faith in whatever it is that you trust and recognize that I am doing exactly what I feel I should be doing in my life, and I am exactly were I feel I need to be.
I still feel quite safe in Nablus, where I stay. I do intend to be even more cautious considering what has been happening of late. Feel free to share your concerns as they come, and I will share my support and information as best I can.
Sending my love from this end.
Now throw on some Stevie Wonder... and don't you worry bout a thang. ;)
Let me step back to Wednesday this week.
After a particularly long day at work, I sat down at the computer and finally pressed the "purchase" button on the tickets home that I'd been looking at for the last week. Having tickets with my name on them suddenly made the thought of home seem a bit more vivid. I was imagining the little details of my return - what the looks would be on people's faces when I first saw them again, where I would meet people for music and drinks during my stayover in Austin.
My joy was interrupted by an odd attempt to scam me for money through a very clever use of Facebook, and that deserves its own post at some point, but not now. I head home from school and sit down to eat some dinner and unwind.
Opening Facebook, I see a post by a friend of mine who had heard news while walking through the souq that a bomb had gone off somewhere - Tel Aviv, Jerusalem - the news was fresh and people were waiting for more.
I start looking around online to see what I can find. I read that two hours earlier, a bomb had gone off in Jerusalem, near the central bus station. This sort of thing was at one time common in Jerusalem. That has not been the case, however, in many years.
My co-worker walked in, and I told him about the news.
"This is serious," he said. "It seems like there's going to be another intifada."
I thought about it. I told him that I didn't agree. There just didn't seem to be a serious push for another intifada in my opinion... not in the West Bank, anyhow.
The week had a variety of other stresses for many of us - wholly unrelated to regional tensions or politics. I decided to head to Tel Aviv for the weekend with a girlfriend, while another friend - forever in the mindset of a photojournalist - headed to Jerusalem to find out what was going on and take photos.
On the way to the bus stop outside of the Ariel settlement, our taxi driver asked that my friend sit in the front seat for the ride. He had told me earlier this week that he was driving near a settlement and was almost attacked by settlers and had to speed off to get away from a large group of men intending to attack him. He wanted an ajnabia sitting in front to deter such conflicts. I'm only ever near a settlement on the few occasions that I am making the trip to or from Tel Aviv, so I don't know much about them, but I would understand if there were increased tensions after the massacre of the Fogel family. To my knowledge, there has yet to be anyone implicated in the murder, but the sentiment of those in the pro-Israel camp tends to be that it was clearly the act of a Palestinian. We stayed in back, but I could understand his apprehension.
Since we were entering Israel on a settler's bus, and because we are both white, I didn't think there would be an issue getting in, despite the increased security after the Jerusalem bombing. This was indeed the case. We booked a night at a hostel and proceeded to enjoy the freedom to walk around the city at night, not to recieve any hassel from people on the streets, to go dancing. It was a fantastic release.
Less relaxing was my realization today that when we had hurried out of the bar, that I had neglected to close my tab. I was now on a quest to reclaim my card from the place, and my plans to head home that morning were now shot.
I trolled the internet while I sat in the hostel lobby, waiting for the place where my ATM card was trapped to re-open. As I looked at my haven for passing time, I came across a Facebook page called "Third Palestinian Intifada". Seemingly unable to see the page, I looked for information about it online. I read a report that stated that the page advocated a new intifada, to begin on May 15. The report stated that the site advocated the attacking of settlers on this day, which I found disturbing. The advocacy of violence on a page that had been 'liked' by more than 200,000 Facebook members in only a few weeks disturbed me. I asked a friend of mine if this was the case, and he assured me that it was not. Now able to see the site, I, too, see no indication of this. Regardless, simply using the word intifada immediately calls to mind the bloody intifadas of years past. My conversation with my co-worker came back to me.
I continued to try to sort out the issue of my missing ATM card. In the course of this, I found someone who spoke Hebrew at the hostel to help me talk to the manager of the establishment where I'd left the card. After speaking to the manager on the phone, he saw my disappointment that they would not be able to help me until 10:30 tonight. He asked where I was going next. I said Jerusalem.
Him - "Jerusalem? Don't go there. Now is a bad time to go there."
Me - "Why?"
Him - "There was just something bad that happenened there. The whole army's there. I'm enlisting tomorrow. We're going to attack."
Me - "Attack where? Gaza?"
Him - "Gaza and the West Bank. They're pulling all the tanks out. There's about to be a war. They're letting old men like me enlist. They don't let an old man like me enlist unless there's about to be something big."
I'd not before experienced the sort of feeling that hit me when he said this. I felt anxious - on behalf of my new home, my friends, my students... I felt naked standing there, talking to this guy. I had spoken to people plenty of times, using vagueries to avoid disclosing where I live and what I do... but I suddenly felt like it was a very significant omission. I felt profoundly uncomfortable.
I had just been reassuring my step-dad on Skype who was passing along the concerns that my mother had regarding recent events in my area. My words to him had been "I have no reason to believe that I am currently in a dangerous situation." Now I was hearing this, I was realizing that the rockets that were fired from Gaza yesterday landed just 15 miles south of where I'd come to "relax", and I was reading about a push for a third intifada, which has made it to more than 300,000 supporters at the time I am now writing. I was feeling a bit out of sorts myself.
After chatting with friends at home (this home, not my US home), I settled down a bit. I recognized that the speculations of an enlistee do not qualify as military intelligence. I realize that further retaliation against the rockets that have been fired from Gaza is likely, but I do not believe that there is currently any cause for military action in the West Bank. There is nothing that I have read that supports the enlistee's opinion that military action was likely in the West Bank, despite plenty that support his assertion of future action in the Gaza Strip.
Family and friends, I write this not to raise your concerns. Rather, I hope to address them. I understand that there are those of you who may now be more worried than you would have been if you were to remain ignorant of these facts or these events. However, I would prefer that you be informed, so as not to become overly concerned if you were to come across any of this on your own without having heard anything on this from me. I understand that this is not likely to leave you feeling relaxed, either. I hope that you will put your faith in whatever it is that you trust and recognize that I am doing exactly what I feel I should be doing in my life, and I am exactly were I feel I need to be.
I still feel quite safe in Nablus, where I stay. I do intend to be even more cautious considering what has been happening of late. Feel free to share your concerns as they come, and I will share my support and information as best I can.
Sending my love from this end.
Now throw on some Stevie Wonder... and don't you worry bout a thang. ;)
Friday, March 18, 2011
I have no power. I have only time.
This is not a metaphor.
This is not political.
This is the story of last weekend's journey to get electricity at my apartment.
Here is Nablus, you don't have to worry about not being able to pay for a giant electricity bill that you ran up unknowingly. That is because here, electricity works like a pre-paid phone. You put money on a card, you put the card into a box at your house, and you are credited the corresponding amount of electrical power.
Unlike a pre-paid phone, however, you cannot credit your account by purchasing credit at any number of local "convenience store"-esque shops. You have to go to the office of the electricity provider and give them your money directly.
"But what if you run out of electricity late at night, or on a weekend when the office is closed?" (Certainly you asked yourself this, despite the fact that those who designed this system clearly did not.)
Well, my friend, that's what this story is about.
I started drawing the pictures below as I was writing in my journal. Growing tired of the abundance of words on the page, I started to draw the story.
This is what happens when you have no power, but all the time in the world.
I hope that you have all enjoyed my tale of powerlessness. If nothing else, it reminded me that I spend too much time plugged into things and not enough time creating and finding inspiration from the creations of others.
And with that, I'm turning off my computer and reading a book. Love to you all.
This is not political.
This is the story of last weekend's journey to get electricity at my apartment.
Here is Nablus, you don't have to worry about not being able to pay for a giant electricity bill that you ran up unknowingly. That is because here, electricity works like a pre-paid phone. You put money on a card, you put the card into a box at your house, and you are credited the corresponding amount of electrical power.
Unlike a pre-paid phone, however, you cannot credit your account by purchasing credit at any number of local "convenience store"-esque shops. You have to go to the office of the electricity provider and give them your money directly.
"But what if you run out of electricity late at night, or on a weekend when the office is closed?" (Certainly you asked yourself this, despite the fact that those who designed this system clearly did not.)
Well, my friend, that's what this story is about.
I started drawing the pictures below as I was writing in my journal. Growing tired of the abundance of words on the page, I started to draw the story.
This is what happens when you have no power, but all the time in the world.
 |
| Translation: "Hi. Are yall open today?" "Yeah. Come in between 2 and 5." "Where?" "In the city center. In the main building." |
 |
| Translation: "Where do I go for electricity?" "Over there, but it's closed." |
 |
| *There has been speculation as to the contents of the cup drawn to my left. It is an icecream-fruit drink that I went and bought while waiting. It happens to be called a cocktail, but I assure you there is no alcohol in it. That would've been nice, but, alas... |
 |
| Here you see the two electricty boxes used to insert your card. One of them will debit our account. One will debit the account of our upstairs neighbors. |
 |
| This box sits just above our breaker box. A red and green light indicate power. |
 |
| After many, many hours, we got our electricity. It would be days before we had working internet (an unrelated problem) |
I hope that you have all enjoyed my tale of powerlessness. If nothing else, it reminded me that I spend too much time plugged into things and not enough time creating and finding inspiration from the creations of others.
And with that, I'm turning off my computer and reading a book. Love to you all.
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