Return from the Holy Land

Shalom. Both hello and goodbye. I never understood how one word could mean such opposite things. But I think I get it a little better now. I don't know if I'm coming or going or where I'm heading to. I've left Israel, but my heart is still there. So were my rose-coloured glasses shattered? I don't know. So much has happened in the past two weeks that I don't know what to think anymore.

Israel is still an enigma to me. It's a country so rough around the edges (and in the middle too), as a Canadian, it can sometimes even come off as brash and uninviting. It's history is something so far from what I've ever experienced, I can only begin to try and understand what is on the surface. Yet despite all the problems there is a truth and honesty to Israel that I've never been able to find in Canada. Beneath the rough exterior are the heart and soul of a person yearning for the same things that we all are.

And I stand outside it all. Unable to truly understand what goes on within those walls. Set apart by my Canadian upbringing. Not Jewish. Not even an Arab.

Some places are so easy to fall in love with. They are warm, welcoming, vibrant. There are those places that open their arms to you, no matter who you are. But then they fall flat when you try to explore their depths. I don't think Israel is one of those places. So what is it? Could I fall in love with Israel? Would Israel accept me?

I sit here now in my large house with central heating. The tv blares with an endless circulation of infomercials and a droning voice tries to sell me products from all corners of the room. It feels like another lifetime since I've been in Israel. Or even as if it were all just a dream. All I have left are my photos to confirm it really did happen. I wonder if I will ever return, if I will ever be able to go back to the way things were.

Shalom: Ramblings from Israel

The man in the moon looks the same from here. Or maybe I've forgotten what he looks like at home. Sometimes I even forget what home looks like. But then again I've never really considered one specific place to be home.

I've only been a couple of days in Israel, but already I'm starting to feel comfortable. I have yet to decide on an explanation for that (because, of course, my analytical mind will not stop until a reason is found). Maybe it's due to the fact I've not only become jaded in my "real time" life, but in my travels as well. Nothing manages to excite or thrill me anymore. Another country, another scenery, just another notch on the bedpost. I envy those who look at life as if everything is new again.

Then my emotions take over. That dark, insecure, female side. I let myself wonder if maybe the reason I feel so comfortable is that I am in the exact place I should be at this exact moment in time. And that's when I start to doubt myself. We all know when we want something so badly we are willing to believe anything, to see only what we want to see. It's impractical. It's illogical. It's wishful thinking. But just what if?

Aside from my need to question and understand everything, Israel is a beautiful country (from what I've seen so far). Though I haven't been to many places yet, I feel as though I have stepped outside from a generic, colourless, and sterile world into a place that breathes life. The sunsets are so vivid and everywhere you go orange blossoms grows in abundance. You've never smelled anything until you've smelled fresh orange blossom. Not to mention the orchards in the kibbutz. Fragrant oranges, mandarins, tangerines, grapefruit, avacado - as far as the eye can see. And the sun, just touching everything with its warm golden glow.

How nauseating was that passage, eh? I feel as if I am waxing like a person in love - this was lovely, and that was lovely, and everything was just perfect. But... We'll see how long these rose-coloured glasses can shield my weary, skeptical eyes.

Life in the Linear

Do you stick to the straight and narrow or do you veer off the beaten path and take the road less travelled? Being the random and sometimes erratic girl that I am, I am definitely in favour of blazing your own twisted, winding trail, but who's to say what the best method is?

I will the be the first to admit, I envy those who can walk a straight line without veering off this way or that. I like the idea that you have an end in sight, a goal, a plan, a means of getting there. One foot in front of the other, knowing exactly where the next step will take you. There are no surprises for you. You know what to expect. Everything is stable.

But is it worth it to give up that excitement to feel just comfortable all the time? I don't think I could live following one path all my life. There are too many twists and turns and unexpected forks in the road that you absolutely cannot plan for. I crave adventure - always exploring, uncovering the unknown, discovering new ideas. I am not afraid to leave my future in the hands of fate. It's the unpredictability, the curve balls, the random forks in the road, that make life the dynamic, beautiful thing that it is. It's like my favourite architect, Antonio Gaudi, once said: the greatest architect ever (God) never used straight lines so why should I?.

So I look at it this way, maybe I'll never have that nice condo which I've saved years for. Or maybe I'll never work that stable job that feels like a second home to me. Maybe I'll never meet that someone who I come home to everyday. You can insert here any one of those goals that many acquire along the linear path. But does that really matter in the end?

Births, deaths, and marriages... And I'm back at work!

I will explain the title in another post... For those who remember my city days you'll understand.

I stated in my previous post that I could not see the rhyme or reason for homosexuality in the role of the survival of the human species. As a firm believer in the saying that everything happens for a reason (even though we don't always understand), I have searched high and low for an explanation as to why some people prefer members of the opposite sex (in all meanings possible!) and why some prefer the same sex, basically why homosexuality exists in the human species. And I've come to this conclusion: population control.

I know I said that to ensure the survival of our species we must reproduce, but this is only when births and deaths are occurring at an equal rate. In this day and age, we rely on technology so much to keep us healthier, make us live longer, secure a guaranteed adulthood for our children. In other words, we evade death. Now correct me if I am wrong, but when births are happening at the same rate, but the rate of deaths decreases drastically, the outcome leads to a growing population. The world's resources are not infinite. By manipulating the equilibrium we are over-extending our capacity to survive. And that is where homosexuals come in.

I haven't researched enough to understand how people become gay, but I am making assumptions in favour of the "gay" gene theory. But think about how effective it would be in crowd control. Humans are over populating. Through natural selection the gay gene becomes more and more prominent. The mission is no longer to reproduce and populate. Less babies are born. Maybe some of the less fortunate ones are even adopted and given a good home by a gay couple. The ones already alive are now being taken care of and fewer are coming into the world of misfortune.

But of course, the why never really matters. Wasn't the road to hell paved with good intentions? The important is that we are supportive and accepting of others. Spread love. War is expensive.

Ramblings for human rights!

So there has been a clip circulating the internet about the approved ban on gay marriages in California. I don't normally comment on what is going on in the world. Actually I have no idea what direction or theme this blog has, but I thought today would be a good day to share my opinion and hopefully hear from you (the singular person) who reads my blog.

I, for one, will admit that I don't believe homosexuality is "natural". I don't understand it or what purpose it may serve. You see, I am a loyal follower of evolutionary psychology theories - that all of our traits, behaviours, desires, urges, et cetera are based on the simple need of survival. The basic premise of keeping a species alive is reproducing. Men and women copulate in order to create offspring. (I assume the act of copulation was made to be enjoyable being that humans need to take as many chances as possible since they produce a mean litter number of approximately one thus reducing the chances of having surviving offspring.) Homosexuality, as far as I can see, does nothing for the survival of our species. In my eyes, it is not natural.

Is it wrong, however? Who am I to be the judge of that? How can I condemn others for being "unnatural"? Do we not all stray from what is innate and "God-given" in some form or another? I paint my face to mimic bigger eyes, poutier lips, more shapely cheek bones. Though they may not be of the same magnitude and completely different in every shape and form, they are both personal dispositions THAT IN NO WAY HARM OTHERS. Yes, I just compared putting on make up to being gay. But I think in a way my comparison emphasizes the triviality of the idea that being homosexual is wrong because it is unnatural. How does one's personal preferences affect other people's lives? It doesn't, unless you let it.

You can all go on looking for words of condemnation in your bible or scriptures or Torah or Koran or whatever holy book you want to conjure, but if you'll notice the one thing that spans all religions is that we do unto others as we would have others do unto us. Matthew 7:12, "All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do you even so to them." (Sorry I can't quote any other religious texts as I am not so well-read in the religious field). Jewish have the same saying, only in the negative. Do not do unto others as you would not have done unto you. Buddhists ask that we hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful. Muslims go so far as to say that one is not a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself. I'm sure you get the point.

So the big question is, would you want someone else telling you you can't get married?

Straightforwardness: A Very un-Canadian Trait

Is it possible to write without metaphors, similies, synecdoches, and other forms of figurative language? Can we, the writers, put our vision into the hands of the reader and allow them to create their own? Is it possible? Would we allow it?

I once read somewhere that the one thing a budding travel writer must not do is to use cliched sayings of the figurative kind. So much of my writing consists of purple prose that I wonder if any relevant content would survive if I did cut back. Figurative speech is used so freely in our everyday lives that no one stops to really think about it anymore. How is one to describe how blue the ocean is without comparing it to something else? Or the monstrosity of an object with out referencing something equally as grandiose?

Take for example the relation between old memories and our current likes and dislikes. Theory goes that our preferences are not dictated by our sensitivity to "good" quality, but the sort of memory the object in question will trigger. In my personal experience, there are certain scents that take me back to an exact moment in my life. The smell of popcorn mixed with this sweet, powdery perfume always reminds me of one of my cousin's family movie nights which I was invited to. The movie was The Fellowship of the Ring and the theatre was packed. To me that scent is like an enfolding embrace, the kind that gives you those warm fuzzy feelings inside. Or there are certain songs of which the lyrics would have you parting your hair over your eye and slashing your wrists, but instead they make you sigh with fond old memories. Like this one song, Tu Carcel, loosely translated the lyrics say "I hope you suffer, bitch", but everytime it plays I smile over the faces I recall when I hear it.

What am I trying to getting at here? As convoluted as my example is, my point is this. Even in the deepest recesses of our mind we cannot think on one subject without unconsciously relating or comparing it to another. One image always evokes another. It's how we understand the world around us. And as a writer (possibly quite a bad a one) that is the way I document how I see the world: through comparisons and hyperboles and allegories.

P.S. I don't know how much of this makes sense... It was written in many different fragments that never quite fit together which I tried to fuse with a whole lotta bullshit. Possibly needs a lot of editing.

The Long Canadian Winter

I am slowly going crazy here in Canada. A case of cabin fever? Maybe. This morning I awoke to a vision of grey skies. Clouds as far as the eye could see. I waited all day for the sun, but it never seems to surface anymore, and when it does it sets earlier and earlier. Thank God for artificial light. I feel as though I haven't seen sunlight since my days in Mexico, though we surely must have had some sun during the month of September. But of course the grey has been with us for so long that I cannot remember a day without it.

My circadian rhythm is completely bunked. I work late then stay up til the wee hours of the morning pondering what my next step will be. And there is still no light by the time I shut my eyes and wander into a dreamless rem cycle. The morning does not bring much hope as my eyes flutter open to dark, grey, cloudy skies. I should really get some curtains for that window. I cannot even tell if I am waking in the morning or the late afternoon. All day long the skies remain a constant drear. I suspect, however, it is closer to late afternoon as I start to feel my body adapting to my vampish ways.

Every year I try to prepare myself for these eight long months, yet I am never ready when it comes. We do what it takes to survive this harsh season, but some of us don't make it. It's a classic tale of man versus nature and sometimes I'd wager that nature has the upper hand in this cold Canadian wilderness. This year, however, I vow to come out on top. Only 218 days left...

sample travel writing

Okay... Here it goes. My first... Piece. (Is that what you would call it?) I thought I would dig up my childhood aspiration and start writing again. It's just a rough draft that needs a lot of work and editing, but I wanted to get it out there for some hopefully constructive criticism. At the moment it is currently untitled.

(Title To Be Announced)
By: Jessica San Juan

Like many other sports, surfing is dominated by men. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, and woman you better be ready. In a sport that refers to all females as “chicks” you have to prove your own worth. And that was what I intended to do.

I took my first surf lesson on the mainland of Ecuador. My travel companions wanted a beach vacation and so we travelled out to the coastal town of Montanita. It was a journey alright, (but that story is for another time and place). It was a nice trip, not the sunniest of times, nor the most beautiful of beaches. But it’s where I gathered together the pieces of my jaded heart and learned to fall in love again. When you’re riding those waves, it’s as if the world around you falls away. It’s that exact moment when your own life enters that clichéd scene in all cheesy romance movies when the beautiful and complex heroine finally gets her fairytale ending as she dances in the arms of the boy she has secretly loved all her life. The music fades away and the lights are dim, and they notice no one else but each other. So surfing is kind of like that minus the boy and the music and all the tacky decorations.

A month later, and zero surf experience more, found me living in the Galapagos Islands – an archipelago world renowned for its surf apparently. Day in day out I would sit on the beach as I watched the boys have fun in the waves, too frightened to join them. Too frightened to be the only girl in a man’s world. Then one day I knew it was time.

With my borrowed surfboard in hand, and my best girl friend in tow, I marched to the beach determined to get my share of the waves. Male after male dotted the beach, waxing surfboards, applying sunscreen, stretching into positions even a contortionist would be proud of. I could feel them all watching me as I made my way to the water.

“You sure you wanna go out today?” one of them questioned me. The waves were decidedly big, but I was ready. Or I thought I was ready. Maybe I wasn’t ready? No. I was definitely not ready. The question poked at my failing confidence as I surveyed the scene before me. The waves were stronger than they had been in days. Rocks jutted out of the water like spikes at the bottom of an unforgiving pit.

“Ten ganas (be brave)”, the same guy urged me on.

He was right. I couldn’t let my fears always hold me back. So into the water I plunged dragging my gal pal behind me. Paddle. Paddle. Paddle. Brace myself for the wave. Paddle harder. Faster. Better. Stronger. (No wait. That’s Kanye West). Paddle. Paddle. Paddle. Wait for it. Wait it for it...

Why hadn’t I done this sooner? Just being out on the water with my surfboard gave me a sense of freedom I had never felt before. Even if I didn’t catch any waves, I’d be happy to just float along in the ocean. Drifting through the salty water, not a care in sight, not a worry in mind. So relaxed...

“Chicas! Regresan! Come back! Chicas!” Scared male shouts jarred my peaceful reverie. The shoreline once dotted with boys waxing surfboards, applying sunscreen, and stretching was now lined with boys frantically waving their arms, screaming at me and my friend to come back.

Ohmigod, I thought. I am going to die. The first time I decide to take a risk and go surfing on my own and I am going to be eaten by shark. He’s right behind me. I know it. Dammit. I shouldn’t have eaten that piece of cake last night. I probably look like a big drumstick to him. Ohmigod, I’m too young…

“Jessie, no me dejes! Tengo miedo! Don’t leave me, I’m scared!” my best friend’s hand reached out for mine as we both clung to our boards with the other. Looking each other straight in the eye we knew what our fate would be if we didn’t get back to the shore like our life depended on it. Our lives did depend on it.

Paddling our hardest, stroke for stroke the two of us fought against the current to make our way back to shore. Panting and out of breath, with our hearts beating a mile a minute, we collapsed onto the beach. Finally, I asked what was wrong.

“We saw you drifting in the waves. We were scared you were going to float away to sea.”

Boys… Here I was, petrified for my life, scared I would be starring in my own personal version of Jaws, and they were just worried that I was RELAXING! Oh well. I didn’t catch any epic waves that day, or even manage to stand up on my board, but I proved to myself and every male on that beach that I earned my spot out there in the water.

Clarification of a rambling

I'd just like to clarify something I said in my last blog. I'm going to try and keep this as short and sweet as possible since my supposed purpose to be on the internet is to study and listen to lectures and do pop quizzes and all that fun stuff. Anyway, blogging did not ruin my relationship. It just might have been a catalyst in the already foreseen wreckage. Guns don't kill, people do. Right?

Late night ramblings...

The last time I truly kept a blog going (Yes I delete my entries, thus deleting bits of history, I know. I ERASED HISTORY. There happy?) it ruined my relationship. Ever since then, I've had a few entries on my travels. Deleted. A few entries about my random thoughts. Deleted. Why do people blog? I've always found it a little egotistical to want others to be privy to your most absurd thoughts. And at the same time, I'll admit, I've always been a little insecure that my thoughts are not intelligent enough to be of any importance to blog about. Or that I talk about myself too much. But what does it matter really? Then I asked myself why not just keep a journal, why do you need to write about what goes on in that little brain of yours and share it with the whole world? I have justified myself with several reasons, the main one being that a)I type a whole lot faster than I write (thank you Mr. Pervy McDonald). And yes, I do like to argue and debate with myself. It makes me riddled with indecision and spices up my life a bit.

Now, the point of this entry. I guess you could say it is an introduction into the foray of... Well something new. Always something new. This entry is like my New Year's resolution full of resolve to do better. And at first I will attack it with such vim and vigor, but like all resolutions we all fall back into old habits. And I like to delete entries. Am I making any sense now? It is well past bedtime for me. So I bid you adieu. Next entry will be more writing while I am conscious and less ramblings of a spacecadet. Maybe.