What Happened

When I started writing this blog all that time ago in the middle of the night in my room in New Jersey I never thought it would turn out like this. I was laying in bed, unable to sleep, thinking about all the fucked up things that had happened to me over the past 18-years of my life. All the shit I had to put up with and how I had this little fantasy that maybe joining the IDF would somehow rescue me from the horror and despair I felt inside of myself. I didn't know how to sort out the wave of new emotions I was feeling. Suddenly, I start thinking up a narrative in my head and furiously typed out the first draft of my the first post I ever put up that's linked to on the right hand side. After drafting it and revising it I figured it would be a great way to set the mood for a blog that tried to take a different angle from all the other "foreigner in the IDF" blogs. They all seemed sort of the same, detailing what it was like before and during the army in dry detail with descriptions of how great it feels, it's hard but fun at the same time, dreams really can come true. Eh, boring, let's hear about pain and suffering and how not everything has a happy ending.

I didn't make Aliyah to live the dream, I made Aliyah to get the as far away from New Jersey as possible. If the moon was a country and it had an army, I would have enlisted there. I wanted to put as much space, physical and mental, between me and the place where I was raised. The people as well, I didn't want to have to deal with them their selfishness and dysfunction anymore. I knew that if I stayed with them, I would end up being like them whether I liked it or not.

When I got to Israel I wasn't happy or excited, I was in a daze. As time went on, I started to relish my freedom. The general feeling was one of relief. I struggled a lot with the Hebrew and because I couldn't learn it and pull of an authentic Israeli accent, to this day it still prevents me from really feeling like I've assimilated into Israeli society.

My draft dates kept getting put off for various reasons and I was scared that I was never really going to do it and that one day I would go back to America with my tail between my legs all my family members who that I was crazy would point and laugh and say "toldyaso."

When I moved onto my kibbutz with garin tzabar, that's when I started to get serious. I started to really learn about the units, started training really hard, and had my eyes set on shayetet, the navy seals. I went to the try out and didn't make it. Didn't even come close. So then I kept training with hopes of doing the gibush for tzanchanim. They didn't even let me do it. "Request denied." I didn't even get a chance to try out. This already started to devastate me a little, but there's still Golani and maybe Givati or Nachal. But nope, the army decided that wasn't for me either. They decided that "field intelligence" is for me (and by the way, the official name of this unit as per posters made by the IDF is actually "field collecting" but I'll be god damned if I go around for the rest of my life telling people I was in the prestigious "field collecting" unit, what is this, a fucking scavenger hunt?)

I requested to transfer right away before I drafted, but was told to wait until I get to the bakum and try to transfer there. During the time before I drafted I looked into FI and spoke with people from the unit, and thought it sounded kind of cool. As such, I got very confused and started second guessing the dream I'd had for a year-and-half already, which was being in the infantry. The katzin miun actually gave us a chance to change, but I didn't take it. I thought that I'd never forgive myself if I hated the infantry and one day found out that field intelligence was actually a great opportunity that I missed out on.

Within a month of being in my new unit I already started filing my transfer papers. With all due respect, this is not what I came for. I sat down and explained it to my M"P, and he said he would support me. All the officers from him on up recommended the transfer but in spite of all that it was eventually denied. I remember that day and how my spirits were crushed. I didn't sign up to suffer for three years thinking about what a big mistake I made, how the army fucked me and I'm also partially responsible for ruining my own dream. All that training, all that dreaming, all the shit I went through in this country, for nothing.

That was nine months ago. I finished all the brutal training they put us through, earned my position as a "negevist," and the respect of my commanders. In spite of this, I still like I'm doing something that I wasn't meant to do. It consumes my thoughts on a daily basis. On the bad days, I wake up some mornings with a black hole in my chest. I can't stand telling people where I am in the army and hearing comments like "oh, you guys basically just walk a lot," or "tazpitanim b'shetach." I gave up everything to be in this army and been made to feel like a chump for it. That's essentially why I've stopped writing this blog, because after all that I went through, the day I got shipped to FI was the day that a small part of me died-- the part that would pump out these blog entries. I have nothing to say anymore.

I know that the army is the army and that I need to be where they need me, but still, I can't go on like this. I made a crucial mistake and am going to spend the next two years of my army service paying for it (almost one full year is done). I believe in the state of Israel, but everyday I think about how dumb I am for letting this happen to me. I don't know what to say, but I feel like I owe an explanation to my readers, who probably never come back here anymore, and with good reason. In addition to that, I also had to get this off my chest, which this blog has always been great for.

I don't know if I have the balls to call this a "farewell post." I have a lot more time in the army and I'm sure in that time I'll feel the need to write more entries, but for now, I want to at least let those who read my blog know what happened, and that for the time being I am incapable of coming out with things to write about on a regular basis, which has been pretty obvious anyway due to my lack of posting.

Building a Future

When I was in high school I didn’t care about my grades. I always found flaws in the education system and used that as an excuse to not try. Oh, I’m not going to waste my time on something I don’t even believe in. I always knew in the back of my head that I was digging myself into a hole. I knew that my general apathy was going to continue to eat away slowly at me unless I flipped my world upside down.

So that’s exactly what I did over a year ago when I made aliyah, but I’m only now realizing how important hard work is, and how exceeding in one part of life sets up all the dominoes for you to succeed in the next part of your life as well. Unfortunately, up until now, I haven’t been setting up the dominoes properly. I didn’t exercise properly like I should have over the past year, and honestly, if I had, I probably would have gotten an invitation from yom sayerot. People always told me that it’s a strong mind they look for, because the army can whip anyone who has a healthy body into shape. But you know what, all my friends who got invitations to gibushim are in amazing shape, and everyone who wasn’t in shape didn’t get an invitation. So go figure.

It’s hit me that my poor grades mean that when I finish the army I’m going to have to work extra hard in order to exceed in college. It means that from the get go I’m going to be at a disadvantage during the application process. It means that I’ll have to spend years making up for the lethargy I embodied during high school. It means a lot of things, and if I had put in the work beforehand, I would be much better off right now. It means that I have to succeed in the army so that I can start building a future for myself in Israel. 

All of this coupled with the news that I didn’t get into the infantry. I was almost completely certain I’d get Golani, Givati, or Nahal. That’s what I’ve been dreaming about for over a year, it’s what I listed as my number one choice, and I didn’t get any of them. Instead I got field intelligence. At first I was shocked and thought to myself that I’ll fight tooth and nail to get out, but now that I’ve spoken with people about it, it doesn’t sound that bad. The job is from what I hear important, not at all “jobnik," and uses lots of cutting edge interesting technology.

My decision is that I’m still going to do everything I can to get into infantry, because that’s what I’ve always wanted. On the other hand, I also don’t want to risk losing field intelligence because it sounds like it could be pretty amazing. There are no special forces within the unit which upsets me because I’d like to give that a shot and if I go to FI I’ll never get to experience a gibush. Also, FI doesn’t get as much basic training as the infantry. Other than that, the overall training is still from what I hear very intense and lasts 8.5 months. 

Basically, it’s all going to come down to my attitude. I know that my future has a lot of opportunities in store for me if I play my cards right and put in the hard work.

Red Beret Not in My Future

“I don’t regret the crossroads I’ve passed. Once past the crossing, I’m on my own way. And if there’s more beauty, more flowers along the road I didn’t take, I still don’t regret it, because it wasn’t my road. My path will pass through fertile fields and lovely gardens, and over mountains and rocks and even deserts, but in all its twists it will be on the one path--known and yet mysterious. Our life is a world unto itself within many others--planes that will never touch. And all the roads are traveled by people, and sometimes they meet at the crossroads, and sometimes continue together, and sometimes part again and sometimes not. And it isn’t just a matter of direction, but of time as well. And why be so interested in other planes, when we can hardly master our own?” - Yoni Netanyahu

I just found out recently that I didn’t get the tzanchanim gibush. I’m quite disappointed because with not getting an invitation at yom sayerot that’s two of my dreams shot down by the cold selection process of the IDF. I was given the vague answer that my file doesn’t fit with their criteria. Somethings just weren’t meant to be. I’m going to feel bad for a few days, probably like I did just after yom sayerot, but I have to look ahead and focus on the endless opportunities that are still within my grasp. 

As I was walking back from the dining room, mulling over the bad news in my head, I thought to myself that all this training and exercise has been for nothing. But that’s not really true, I’ve been physically and mentally much stronger lately. That’s an achievement in itself, and I better not let myself down by giving up just because the paratroopers don’t want me.

In fact, what I should do is try even harder. The best revenge is forgetting about those who might have ignored you or kicked you while you were down. I’m going to carve my own path in whatever unit I end up in, and make it the loss of shayetet-13 and tzanchanim, not my loss.

I have a good friend from Germany that was extremely dedicated to his training and a natural leader. He’s one of the most influential people I’ve ever met. To make a long story short, he went to yom sayerot and didn’t get an invitation. Then his file got mishandled and he ended up in a very undesirable unit. He fought to get out, he went to gibushim within the unit (and finished), and pulled all the strings he could, but none of it worked out. He told me once while he was still in basic training that his plan was to become an officer in the unit, so as to start building a future for himself.

That’s what sets him apart from most people. Even though he utterly hated his situation, his response was still to give as much of an effort as possible. At the end of basic training, he was selected among a handful of other people as one of the best cadets. The honor won him a free ticket into the unit that he did a gibush for-- the unit that initially rejected him.

It’s people like him and Yoni Netanyhu that set the example I need to follow. To stop looking backward, and to just focus on the present. My biggest fear now is to not end up in infantry. I’ll be devastated if that happens. But even if that turns out to be the case, I’ll keep fighting and try to make my service time as meaningful as possible. The only thing it’s going to take is a strong and focused mind.

Other than that, I will almost definitely be going to the army in the next two to three weeks. I don't yet know to which brigade.

Becoming a Soldier

Every IDF draftee has a similar first day-- he or she goes to the “Bakum” at Tel HaShomer in Ramat Gan, which is right outside of Tel Aviv. From there, the draftee is processed into the army and then shipped to his base where he will serve. If everything goes smoothly people can finish up at the Bakum in one day, but sometimes there are hiccups and it can take as long as a week (or so I’ve heard.) 

For garin tzabar, it works differently. We all went to the Bakum, and went through most of the things that draftees go through on their first day, but instead of being shipped to our base, we were allowed to go home. We got our teeth photographed, fingerprints taken, x-rayed, given vaccinations, had a few interviews about where we want to go, and got our dog tags and soldier ID cards (hogerim). This means that we are officially considered soldiers of the IDF, even though we live completely civilian lives. It also means that our army service has officially begun, so the countdown until I get discharged has begun. It’s amazing to me to think how dramatically my life is going to change in a few weeks or so when I really get drafted. As far as I know, the only things we didn’t get were our uniforms. By the way, don't sweat it if you are afraid of getting shots. There were lots of people that day who were quite nervous, and afterwards all of them had the same thing to say, "It wasn't that bad."

The ID card we have is great, it allows us to travel for free or at a reduced price on most public transportation. We’re technically not supposed to be allowed to travel for free, but a lot of the bus drivers never say anything to me, or to my friends. Lately I’ve been getting more serious, have been exercising more, reading more, and in general have been more focused. The tzanchanim gibush is coming up in a couple of weeks, and although I haven’t been invited yet, I assume that I will.

It's similar to the situation I was in with yom sayerot. They only let me know the day before that I was invited. Yom sayerot was an interesting experience, I finished the day, but unfortunately didn’t get an invitation to any of the gibushim. I’ll write about it my next post. I’m happy that I did it though, because it was interesting and gives me a better idea of what to expect at the tzanchanim gibush.

After the day was over we were told to give our "regular" hogerim back and they were replaced with different ones that stay we are soldiers in "shalat" which is a Hebrew acronym "service without payment." It took almost two hours and we had to sit outside and do nothing while we waited. People started to get restless so some of the mefakdim started threatening that "you're soldiers now and can go to a court martial for misconduct." Of course it was an empty threat but they managed to get people to quiet down, which didn't bother me because I was trying to sleep.

"Self-Portrait of a Hero"

I’ve been reading Self-Portrait of a Hero. It’s letters that Jonathan Netanyahu wrote to friends and family from from 1963-1976. If you don’t know, “Yoni” Netanyahu was our current prime minister’s older brother who was killed in action in 1976. He fell leading Sayeret Matkal’s raid on the Entebbe airport in Uganda. He ranks among one of the greatest soldiers that Israel has ever had.

It’s amazing reading his philosophy on life. I’m humbled by the thoughtfulness and maturity he had from such a young age. I also admire his strength of character. When he had free time in the army, he would read literature and write letters. Most people go to sleep or socialize. He truly never wasted a second. On weekends after training of nightmarish intensity he would go for long distance and describe it as a pleasure. I only wish that when I’m in the army I’ll have one fraction of the strength of mind that he had.

I also observed what a strong family unit he had supporting him. His father was a writer on Jewish topics (who is actually alive today and still sharp as a tack despite being 100), and always encouraged him to learn. His mother and brothers all had unconditional love for him, and him to them. If everything in the army is mental, then a lot of his success must have come form knowing at all times that he had a supportive family behind him. He is ready to tell them everything, and never feels like he is being judged. It’s a great blessing to have people in your life who are willing to listen to anything you have to say to them, knowing that they will be nonjudgemental.

As for me, I’m getting ready for my draft. When I came to Israel over a year ago I thought I would wait at most six months before my draft, and now look how long it’s been. I want to get started already. Only as of a few days ago did the IDF officially recognize me as a combat soldier. That’s because for my father I’m an only child. I had to go through an enormous bureaucratic process that took several months, but it’s finally been settled. It was especially complicated for me because I am not in touch with my mother, while at the same time she has another son, further complicating the only child rule in Israel. The IDF has no regular procedure for a situation like mine.

Also, even though I’m still living a completely civilian life, as of last Sunday, October 3rd, I officially became a soldier, along with the rest of garin tzabar. I will write more about this soon in a new post.

A Week in "Gadna"

Gadna is a week long program that is meant to prepare people for the army and give them a taste of army life. Usually regular Israelis who are sixteen or seventeen participate in it, but this past week I did it with my garin. All the other garins from the whole country participated as well, which made it unique for gadna. We were on average older and also often needed translations for the orders we were given. When we arrived the garinim were split up and only one other person in my tzevet (group) of thirteen was from my garin.

Some highlights were being in the field for a night, learning how to maneuver both in the field and in an urban environment, and shooting on the firing range. Also, we got to wear a uniform the whole week which added to the experience. Other than that, while I enjoyed the week, there isn't much to write about. There was a lot of downtime where we weren't allowed to do anything but wait. That's not a complaint because it's in its own way a good preparation for army life. On the other hand, I was disappointed that the week wasn't physically challenging in the slightest. We only had one exercise session. I also would have liked to shoot the rifle more. As it was, we got only eleven bullets.

As for what the experience meant to me, I'm happy that I got a small taste of army life. I can say that now I have a slightly more concrete idea of what to expect. Since the entire gadna we were only with people from other garinim, I got to see what they were like. I have to say, I'm pretty pleased with my garin, because some other people were obnoxious and immature.

For example, a lot of guys look at joining the army as a video game (yeah you know if I don't get into flight school then I guess I'll just go to sayeret matkal or whatever), and don't get me started on the people who both come from very Israeli backgrounds and then use that as a means to get op on their high horse and act better than others. Hey, why aren't you guys speaking Hebrew to each other? Don't you know this is Israel? We're not in America anymore. You need to practice. Well excuse the fuck out of me that my parents didn't speak Hebrew to me during my whole childhood. I apologize that I had to start learning the language from scratch at seventeen. It isn't the same for me as it is for you to speak Hebrew. I actually have to work for it whereas you didn't have to work for it all. Don't act like you understand what a struggle it is to pick up the language, because you don't.

It was also interesting to see the roles that people fell into in an army environment. Even though gadna isn't particularly challenging, it was still revealing of people's personalities.  There were the type of people that didn't care, were always getting in trouble, and had to be constantly to reminded to do things. This type of person doesn't put in even one extra ounce of energy if he doesn't have to. There were the natural leaders who always took charge during group activities. There was the average person who always did what he was supposed to be but also took every opportunity to not work if the commander wasn't watching. This person also tended to complain about every little thing. This bed is uncomfortable, we didn't get enough food, we don't have enough free time, blah blah blah... Their were also the douche bag clowns who were always trying to antagonize the mefakdim, usually in a way that wasn't even funny, and who think that somehow they're going to be able to radically change once the "real" army starts. A lot of these people fall under the category of not taking the army seriously and thinking that they will be able to get into whatever unit they want, as if they could give the army orders. It doesn't surprise me that they always need to be the center of attention.

Now that I'm back on my kibbutz it feels great to relax a little bit. I understand how rejuvenating it must be for a combat soldier to get to come home once or twice a month for the weekend. Coming home to a normal shower with hot water, my own bed which isn't filled with dust, and an air-conditioned room, was incredibly refreshing. I also can't wait to go to the real army, because I feel like I could flourish in that environment. It didn't exhaust me like it did for a lot of people, but of course I recognize that gadna is a lot easier than the real army, and it was only one week. Whether the future holds good things or bad things, I feel a lot more excited about the start of my service, and am growing even more impatient because I want to start already.

The Grind

There is something about me that pushes away people who are close to me. My step father never calls or writes me. I haven't spoken with my mom in almost two years. My family out in Oregon won't respond to my e-mails or requests to Skype. Most of the family that I came to Israel for I hardly ever see or speak with. I don't keep in touch at all with any old friends from the States, and rarely any from Israel. My Facebook and Gmail are always sparse and empty. Never any updates, never any new e-mail. I feel like there's something wrong with me. When I want to reach out to people I feel like I'm a hindrance, and therefore almost always decide not to. Most people that I've liked or loved in my life have rejected and left me. Nothing and no one stays in my life permanently.

I've been on my new kibbutz with my garin for almost a month now, and I feel like nothing has changed. I have a personality that forces me to be lonely all the time. The cliques that have formed don't include me-- it's like high school all over again. The "in" crowd has made it quite clear that they don't want anything to do with me, probably because I've unintentionally made it quite clear what I want nothing to do with them. Almost all the women on this small kibbutz are not that interesting, and the few interesting ones don't have that much interest in me. It's depressing.

It reveals a part of why I wanted to join the army in first place. Maybe it's because the only way I can form bonds with people is through hardship. The only people I ever manage to relate to are antisocial in some way. I can't sit down and have a fluid conversation with most people, unless I'm feeling in a particularly good mood, in which case I just put on a show that never lasts. I can't find common ground to talk about with most people. It's hard for me to feign interest and most things bore me. I only have the energy to contribute myself to something when I feel like I'm being pushed to my limits. I feel like I'm smothered by a thick carapace I developed when I was a kid. It grows like a weed and only on the extreme ends of my personality does it weaken and allow me to breathe a little bit. Only when I'm dog tired and heavily challenged do I feel like I've been able to breathe the air of life a little bit, but I rarely have the drive to do that to myself. I hope the army will push me to those limits.

I'm worried that I'm going to spend the rest of my life alone. I'll never be able to settle down with a girl and get married and start a family. Besides, a normal family goes beyond the immediate members. It means spending holidays at the grandparent's houses or having your sister babysit the kids every Sunday. I have none of that. My parents both live with their parents, are single, and will likely never be able to support themselves or make their own living arrangements. What does that say about me? What does that suggest about my future? I've tried so hard for this past year in Israel to make myself independent that I've pushed everyone away.

Where is my life going? It's always in transition. I want to be able to open myself up to people and let them know what I have on the inside, but I think that it's so fucked up that they'll head for the hills the second they see it. A girl on my garin walked into my room the other day and saw an Eminem poster that I have.

"You're an Eminem fan?"

"Yeah, a huge one."

"That's like the first thing that I've really learned about you."

When I talk to people I hide behind a shield of humor and make jokes and make fun of anyone who I feel threatened by, or just outright ignore them. I almost never let anyone in.

I like to listen to music that makes me feel like I have even the slightest clue of what's going on around me. Shit that puts things into perspective and sums it up nicely with a witty line. I just want to put on that music, tilt my head back, and float away forever.

On the other hand, there's a part of me that keeps telling me to push. It says that I have to live in the real world because there's a lot of good in it that can help me. That part of me tells me that slowly but surely I'm shedding away the things that I needed to protect me when I was a kid but are now unwieldy and isolating. One day I think I'll create a static situation for myself that makes me happy. For now, the grind continues. To my family and friends that will never read this: I love you. To all the people I've ignored and never given a second thought about, to all the people who think I'm a quiet and boring person and make not even the slightest fucking effort to understand me, to all the mother fuckers that thought I was weak and used that as an opportunity to make me the object of your humor, to all the people who I've hurt and belittled, to all the people I could have helped but didn't: I wish things had worked out differently. I'm probably hurting more than you are. I'm sorry that I can't be there for you now, and I'm sorry that you weren't there for me. Either way, as we all try to make sense of our lives, every clock in the world ticks on with a ravenous and insatiable hunger.