Life List

Here, for all eyes to see, is a list that holds the plans, the dreams, the stuff I want to do in my life time. My Life List, formerly Bucket List, but inspired by a friend to focus on life rather than some deadline of kicking the bucket. Creating this list has been inspirational. I cannot wait to get started and in some way, over the years, I have gotten started. I have already made aliyah, been to Thailand as a gift to myself after my divorce (please note, “get a divorce” was not on the list. But in my defense, neither was “get married”. so there’s that), adopted a dog and named him Jersey, worked in the Israeli Parliament and worked in a women’s movement. These were all things that I once said, “I want to do that.”

Here is the running, changing, growing list of the things I want to do and see before I kick it while I live and breath:

1. See The Oprah Show live.  Or at least go on a tour of the studio. I gotta get closer to my other Mother, Oprah. I know I have a small window for this, but I love Mama Oprah and she is taping her last season now and I will be in Chicago in early December. I want to be in Oprah’s audience so badly, I can feel it. So I’m working on it.
2. Travel the world. This sounds like a huge, lofty plan, but the truth is, that this is what I am working for. One day, I want to pack up my things, put them in storage and go off to see the world.
3. Relax in Hawaii for at least 3 weeks
4. Smoke weed in Jamaica (Let’s just be honest. If not on this list, then where?)
5. Spend a lot of time back in Thailand
6. Spend my time traveling to help women and girls around the world who are trafficked or enslaved in sex work. If you haven’t read Half the Sky, make it a priority.
7. Back pack South America- and get to Brazil for Carnival
8. See fashion in Japan
9. See Alaska, even though its cold there.
10. Travel Africa-  Experience the music and the cultures in South Africa and beyond
11. Learn to Scuba Dive
12. Bunjee Jump, once.
13. Find a way to fly First Class only between the US and Israel/Own private jet (a girl can dream!)
14. Head up a women’s movement that improves the lives of women and girls
15. Sing live with a band, in front of a crowd, at least once a year.
16. Run a partial marathon, run a race just in the name of being healthy
17. Go on a wine and cheese tour of Europe, without counting calories
18. Write a book that makes people think, with a forward by Elizabeth Gilbert
19. Take cooking classes
20. Take a course in Thai Massage with Omri
21. Sustain working out 4 times a week as a permanent part of my weekly schedule
22. Learn to Salsa Dance
23. Continue to fight to see the day when all of my friends- LGBTQ, straight or whatever- can marry (if they want to) and have children or adopt easily and freely.

What’s on your list? I’d love to hear about them

Chi-Town Express

As you probably know if you frequent my blog, I am on a personal journey. Like the other brave women who came before me- Alice and Dorothy to name a few- I, too, am meeting and reuniting with some wonderful people and places on my quest to find my self. On one leg of my most recent journey. I found myself in a far away land, with the most friendly people, laughing, drinking, high-fiving…

I went to visit a close friend from college  in Chicago over St. Patrick’s Day weekend, and my short time in the windy city definitely blew me away. Regrettably, it has been more than a year since I have seen this friend, lets call her “Dr. E”.  The last time I saw Dr. E she was living at her parents house, working a job she didn’t love, and not quite where she wanted to be in life. Since then, Dr. E has gotten her shit together. She’s got a job she loves at an organization she believes in. She has an office with a view and friends around the corner. She got herself a condo with a door man and a makolet (bodega) downstairs and sister is working her late twenties like a rock star,  hosting dinner parties with family and friends and wine and delicious food. Dr. E has always been my hero, but now she has reached a whole new level with me. Watch out, Oprah- Dr. E is one of MY favorite things!

I’m happy for Dr. E, and for my other friends here who seem like they are really getting their shit together- professionally, personally. I’m happy for them. And I’m having indigestion from all of this jealousy. It’s ugly perhaps but I am jealous of their lives, their homes, their success. How do I do what Dr. E did? That’s where I’m at now. I’m traveling around American and looking at friends, family, heros and mentors to see how they made their goals realities and became the life they wanted to have.

So that begs the question: What do I want? A mentor told me recently that I need to decide what I want to do and put it in the bulls-eye of a target. Then all of the concentric circles around the bulls-eye become the ways in which I get there. After a lot of thought, considering other fields and switching to “for-profit” or some other form of stable work, I read a lot and thought a lot an searched a lot. But for better or worse, I want to change the world. I want this world to be a better place for women when I leave than it was when I came in. That is just who I am and it is what I must do, even if it makes me crazy, poor and unstable.

OK, so how do I get there?

I started a list, obviously. Because I wouldn’t be my moms daughter if I didn’t make a list at such a junction in my life. The list was all about things that make me happy, personally and professionally. The list includes but is not limited to:

• Only 1 cell phone
• Only 1 job
• Work with a team
• A 2 bedroom bottom floor apartment with a yard
• More skills, more knowledge, a set of best practices for improving my work
• My Boo
• Being an agent for changing women’s lives

who i want to be

So these are just some of the highlights… no pressure, right? Some of these things are simple, but some less so. One cell phone- easy. One job, simultaneous to a 2 bedroom place? Many of my friends are holding down 2-3 jobs in order to support their lifestyle. Some leave the big cities to afford a bigger place to live. Some work in jobs they can’t stand for salaries that make it worth it. Some work in the world of the underpaid and unappreciated for the feeling of sleeping well at night because they are promoting a cause they can believe in. We all make compromises, so what will mine be?

There is one thing I think I’m doing right so far- keeping love all around me. Whether it’s from my boo, my friends, my family, in Israel or in America, I do a damn good job of staying close- emotionally if not physically- to the people I love. For me, that takes a lot of painstaking compromises, since the people I love live on two very different continents. But I do what I can, when I can, and I try not skimp on the love. I’m changing a lot in my life, but I’m keeping that one.

So the cliffhanger for now is: How will I reach my goals and create a life that breeds happiness and calm, but I am also considering the following working titles for this tale: How Not to Rot Alone in your Parents Basement and Funemployment: One Woman’s Happy Story of being a Successful Unemployee.

me, outside of where Oprah films her show in Chicago

I think it’s going to be all about the Chicago way of life: free, flowing waters (green and polluted though they might be) going where life brings them, beer, traveling as much as possible- by bus, train or by foot- just keep going, keeping up the positive mental attitude with high-fives all around, and of course, living your best life with Oprah.

Thai Perspective

Now that I am back from an amazing, much needed vacation, my new perspective haunts me.

l had so much time to think and assess things in Thailand. I made plans about managing my stress levels, staying zen in Jerusalem. Then I came back to the same old busy, ass-busting, often frustrating life. Remember the time I spent 3 weeks laying on the beach, eating high-fat foods and loving up my tan bikini belly? Just barely, since I have no pictures. I left my camera on the plane and it was never found. And while at first my new shanty attitude helped me cope with the fucked up loss, with a week in, I’m screaming FML in my head when I think about it. But then I breath and try to let it go for the fifth time.

Lets be honest, getting back from an amazing vacation SUCKS ASS. Even with a gorgeous man and great friends waiting to see you. Here are my ‘back to reality’ resolutions, that just might help me keep the memory of the relaxed me alive:

1. Wear more skirts/dresses, like I did on the beach. Religious girls don’t have a monopoly on looking cute in a skirt.
2. Wear fisherman pants with Crocs. That’s the ugliest and most comfortable combination of clothing I can think of. Kiss my tan ass, Arielle (she’ll comment, then you’ll know who she is if you don’t already)!
3. Love my body… more. I do my best to embrace my curves and rolls. But I found in Thailand, in complete isolation, a real love affair with myself in general and real true acceptance of my body. Loving me up.
4. No more weekend overtime. I’ve been overworking myself to insanity, and taking work with me everywhere I go, including my evenings, my weekends, my dreams and nightmares. In Thailand, I took a cooking class, I snorkeled, I volunteered, got massages for $5- now that, is the way to spend a weekend. As the great Uncle Moishy sang, “Ain’t gonna work on Saturday” (he left out and Friday for Israelis/Sunday for Americans because that’s a bit wordy for a kids song). But call me a mitzvah man, because I think I’m gonna start keeping Shabbat.
5. Do new fun things with my spare time (See #2′s cooking class, snorkeling… massages”). I would love to learn to cook. I can be like Martha Stewart! Or learning the great art of Thai massage. The beauty is I’m a shit cook, and I don’t know that I have the grace to be a great masseuse, but I do love to eat, and I do have hands, so it could work. Look for me, next season on the Food Network.
6. Shhhh!  More quiet time. This is a hard one for me. But I need to devote more time sans phone, internet. My biggest form of communication with family and friends, Internet and phone are hard to ditch for even 5 minutes but I have also become accessible through those channels by work, which makes them major stressors. I need to make room in my week for quiet. This is a hard but important one for me, and I imagine all of my girlfriends working their asses off at work and with families.
7. Make more music. I’m going back to the band. The album drops Chrismas 2015.

I’ve known for years that I wanted to go to Thailand. I didn’t have any idea how much I needed this trip.

But I don’t want to be all Eat, Pray, Love Liz about this because I needed to shut my life away for 3 weeks to get this peace- I know not everyone can get that time away right now. I wish us all a long, paid, all inclusive free trip to the highest number on our ‘Top 5 Trave Destination‘ list in 2010.

making friends and other forms of prostitution

Island hopping through Thailand, the islands of Lanta, Samui and Chang, to be exact, I have been making friends here and there. Some more fleeting than others, some more warm and in-depth than others but all of the relationships have such an interesting lifespan.

Traveling alone is like turning your world into a pickup bar- that’s what you have to do in order to break the silence. At first it was hard and I considered that perhaps I wasn’t socialized properly. But that wasn’t it- thought I’m not saying it isn’t true.  I just had to think like a single bisexual on the prowl. Beer and a backpack, my wingman. Every single person- particularly English speakers- is potential prey. If I’m at a bar then I talk them up- “Where are you from?” or ask a question about the sporting event that’s on TV in the bar. My latest line- “What sport is that?”  is brilliant, because I really am that clueless about sports.  If I’m on a truck taxi or a bus or ferry, a good bet is asking a traveling question- “Where are you headed?”. Everyone’s fair game too- young, old, male, female, singles and couple- I’m not too picky. And I’m getting good at it, too. Fathers, lock up your traveling children…

Today, when my taxi truck (picture a pick up truck with 2 benches in the back, fitting 10 people, with a roof overhead on which backpacks lie) failed to lock into gear, thus sliding backwards down a hill and stopping itself in the jungle, I had no problem making fast friends- everything is an opportunity.  (no one was hurt, just lots of colorful language- “Shit!” “Fuck!” “We’re gonna hit a tree!” and probably some German curses I didn’t catch…)

I have been fortunate to share meals, snorkeling trips and beers with some really nice people from all over the world. A few fellow Americans flying solo in the East, with great conversation and a little reminder of home. Some young Sweds, Brits and Aussies have kept me in great company these last few weeks- sharing stories and laughs over a cold Chang beer and some pad thai.

Sometimes, you meet some real douche-bags, though. But the thing is, that for one night if you don’t feel like being alone, the douchebag you know beats the one you don’t. Recently I met 2 young Canadian guys over drinks and there was some serious douche-baginess going on, but I tagged along anyway, not feeling the quiet vibe that night. Over the course of the evening I heard a lot of fairly offensive comments and chuckled- not at the joke but at the lingering existence of ignorance in the world. I knew there was a reason Americans always laugh at Canadians- these two guys are it. Amongst the name calling of “gay” (and not in the good way) and sports-bar pool games I wasn’t that into, we went to get Thai massage after dinner. They had never been and I highly recommended it so we went. Not only did they not shut up the whole time- but as we left, one of them chose to leave a big tip, which was cool of him. When he told us how much he left, the other one proclaims, “You made me look like such a Jew in there!”

Pause for shock. Because for real, I did not know that people still said things like that- and we had already been through the  ‘I live in Israel and yes, I’m Jewish’ conversation. Usually, I like being The Jew and answering questions- also about Israel. I feel I represent well and I like telling people about our culture. It’s interesting. But not nearly as interesting as the anti-Semitic statement just made in my face. Sure he was mortified and apologetic after and I merely responded with, “Well, I’m sure now that you’ve said it to a Jew you’ll hesitate before saying it ever again, so that’s good”. What does it mean to look like a Jew anyway? To look cheap? This from the bungalow boys from Canada who hesitated and deliberated over having a $5 one hour massage which I have had daily here with no reservations?! I’m done invalidating the comment- it doesn’t need to be done. It’s just so strange to know, after 5 years in Israel and 28 years as a Jew, that anti-Semitism is alive and well- and it lives in Whistler, Canada.

But that night I did more than sell my Jewish soul for a beer. I witnessed prostitution and stripping and the general awesome degradation of women that Thailand has to offer. I know I should be more feminist about it- women have a right to do what they please with their bodies, and they do. But I cannot come to terms with it, when I feel my own very visceral, raw emotional reaction to it. I personally feel as if I am turned into a sexual being for sale, when I am in the vicinity of prostitution. As I did when I visited Amsterdam’s Red Light District, I feel so objectified and sexualized against my will in the presence of prostitution that it is really quite unnerving for me. I also can’t help but believe that 95% of those women are not choosing to do that but surviving by it- or maybe enslaved by it. Thailand is one of the world’s biggest destinations for sex trade and sex trafficking and for some reason every moment I spend watching girls market themselves for old fat nasty white men in bars, I feel like I should be doing something to stop it, to save them and save myself from that feeling.

Thai Torture

Lek, the elephant I rode a few hours ago, never forgets and is faithful 100%, according to Dr. Seuss.

Faithful he was in my one hour ride and he just might never forget me, as accessory to torture and tourist extraordinaire. I wanted to ride an elephant and that I did- my guide, mogley (I’m a little racist but the Jungle Books character was clearly modeled after a young Thai man, because the resemblance is uncanny), kindly pointed out the sites: large spiders that grossed me out, eagles that inspired awe, jungle squirrels, butterflies and flowers.

One thing Mogley did not omit from his tour: the elephant beatings.

Torture, or at the very least inhumane treatment of animals. When Lek stopped to take a rest, he got the kick of a foot- gentle but clear, or the hook of a cane and prodding by his ears by a man sitting on his head and neck- should a person even be sitting on an elephants head at all? Lek the elephant was hot, as was I. He batted his ears and made little (BIG) purring noises, and adamantly insisted on covering himself, and myself as an extension of him on his back, with his own snot in order to cool down. We rode, snot covered through the jungle, I hoped my poor Lek wouldn’t cast me into said jungle with a slight shrug, he would occasionally stop in the shade. Well, mogley didn’t like this and for that reason he had a cane. I swear! He prodded my dear Lek, and didn’t understand me when I politely suggested that that might not be the best way to motivate a live animal 10 times your size, he smiled and told me that Lek was happy, Lek smiles. Well, Lek got me back safely, in response to which I fed him an entire stalk of ten bananas (white-man’s guilt). Then I watched a baby elephant show- he stood on his hine legs and made baskets with his trunk!!! I saw no torture of the baby elephant, I am happy to report.

The highlight? Aside from riding an elephant of course which, despite my nudging feeling that I was causing pain and suffering to an animal, was really fun. The highlight for me was when Lek stopped and made some new movements I hadn’t felt yet before.

Then I heard them: elephant farts. HUGE loud elephant farts.

Mogley then informed me of what was about to happen, “elephant toilet!!” he proclaimed ecstatically. Mogley was thrilled, I was too, to be honest. I’m sitting on top of the elephant and here goes all the works- a waterfall and a dump that shakes the core of the earth. I chuckle, as mogley sings a song that consists solely of the words “elephant toilet”. Oh man, this is a wonderful country.

From high atop an elephant, I torture myself over the potential torture of Lek, my new friend.

I pay a Thai woman daily to stand on my back and inflict pain and pleasure on me, the likes of which I will pay for again tomorrow.

My great silence haunts my dreams of friends and loved ones I haven’t spoken to in over a week. I haven’t spoken to anyone right now in 3 days. Its a cleansing silent torture- a new one for me which I have never in my life experienced.

Then there are my nighttime beach walks where I allow myself to hear, feel and see things I haven’t in these past 2 tough years. I love this beach on Lanta Island for its beauty, its green blue, its sunsets, its hells and coral and its ability to field my many emotions without flinching- from pure relaxation and happiness (“the elephant toilet” song will never not make me smile) to sadness, anger and the other grieving emotions.  Tortured to know that I will have to leave here in 2 weeks- return to the rain and cold and pasty bodies (mine no longer included) of the Holy city and again tortured (good and bad) by the knowledge of 2 more weeks in potential fleeting silence.

Most of all I am so lucky to be here- for this great gift of sun, sand and quiet me time, I will take the pleasure together with the torture of  animal and human soul.