Routine

It will not happen to me! I do things, I meet people, i'm 24/7! But something has cracked in me since I came back from California. At first I was a real mess, not having the slightest bit of energy left for arranging the moving to my new apartment, settling everything down. Having the most serious of doubts whether this little Tel-Avivian dream I worked so so hard to get is what i really wanted. Isn't it strange? The moment I got it - my amazing Tel-Avivian old school apartment, with a huge 4x5 m room that I painted in yellow and orange and already filled up with not less colorful Ikea stuff, with a perfect hammock porch and the single most romantic street light half hidden under the foliage of the adjacent tree right outside of my window; a very decent room mate, who lets me eat off his food when i finish my mama's lunch boxes, and basically keeps treating me like a princess so that moving out my parents' house doesn't come too shocking; the house is in the heart of the city ("on the Red Square itself" like my father says) on a gorgeous tiny street, so well hidden that it has the only parking spots left around (it's like saying "I live on a street in Manhattan that has parking always free for me", if not saying more); I adore my boss, the most human of all humans; i got a new super sexy car from work, let me mention the parking again, i'm still in awe of it , and another round for the boss, gotta love him! i have a tango partner, next week we're dancing in some show in a restaurant with a live quartet. it's winter, the perfect weather for perfect saturday outings in my perfect car (if only my dear perfect friends were less couch potatoes...) even some friends from abroad are coming to visit next month. The moment i got it - the nice, stable, comfortable and profitable life i started missing something else, something amorphous, temporary, exciting ... While I was busy getting what I didnt want I lost something I had...
But what if in an outburst of new age righteousness I throw away all the meaningless commodities i love to deny i'm enjoying of and set to restore all that i claim I used to have. was having something not an illusion? growing up in a mini hammer-and-sickle regime in my house, i always remember daddy saying "there is nothing yours in here, it's all communal" (the day my room mate says anything of this sort i will cook his cats for communal dinner).
I noticed a worrying change, some of the most moving moments from my trip i can't remember so vividly anymore. those special hugs and kisses that used to send shivers down my spine are now nothing more than stills, until they completely slip away from my memory. On the other hand, every time i get traveling stories from friends who are still on the road i turn pale and need a smoke. I want to be somewhere else all the time.


Daphna told me this week "part of it is not necessarily wanting to change your life all the time, but learning to accept and enjoy it". So the million dollar question, which is always banal and blatant, is whether putting on hold or equally throwing away everything and going around the world before my clock has started ticking and i have found myself a glamorously poor husband to look after our offsprings and bestow on me his foreign citizenship while i'm being an extraordinary uncompetitive career woman and looking after my hasband - whether it is practical at all for such an unpractical person that i am intolerant for any work which is not elitistically intellectual and generally completely uninterested in cooking, sewing, drawing or making or fixing anything for that matter. something is out of tune in this plan - if it was a plan at all. or is that it? get something useful from all those vipassanas i sat trough instead of venting out in Greece or Ibiza; all the budhist lectures i went to, instead of passing my math exams on first attempt, for once chill out, take life as it comes, do something for the community, call grandma more often, learn about nutrition, world economics, the kanji, as John said it - read the books that are on my "things to do in jail" list.
Sometimes in South America I made the decision, I'm going to give high-tec a chance (no matter how hard Vicki is going to try to discourage me). And i loved it, before i went to California. Where is the crack?!
The only thing that sheds light on my situation is the case of Bari. Bari works in my office, a very talented young specialist. To his own misfortune he has just got married and went on a 3 week honey moon to Mexico. Overdosing on margaritas, bikinis and mulatas, since he's back he also seems to have lost something he used to have (not referring to the bride)... Everything looks normal, work is being done, coffee is being drank, emails are being sent. Only that every now and then Bari peeks in my room and asks me sympathetically "so, are you feeling any better?...", "no... me, no. you?", "no. i lost it."
No, I'm not complaining, seriously. I'm not blaming the western world for the workolism, dehumanizing assembly line of productive members of society, complacent tax payers and corporate slaves. Not my agenda. I'm only saying "I don't know". What's the missing link? (Love being dramatic!) Could it be that my kick-ass million dollar job with great people, great benefits, great perspectives is simply boring?...
I need a relocation!
and a man. which i will never admit.