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the boys are out and us girls are sitting here blasting adele and amy winehouse just jamming and dancing around on the balcony :) loving life blog 2011 ;) 

random-people:

‘These are hard times for dreamers.’ Those are the words he is carving into the seat of the train next to his. Out in the open, no secrecy, no fear to get caught. His hair is short, brown. His clothes are nothing out of the ordinary, jeans, t-shirt. People are watching him, following the progress of his carving. Nobody tries to stop him, nobody seems offended. Nobody says anything, not to him, not to anybody else. We are all just watching him carve. He carves slowly and precisely, the letters end up looking like they were type out on a computer. Perfection. I wonder if everybody in this carriage thinks of themselves as a dreamer. I’d like to think they do. There’s a businessman, suit, briefcase. He looks serious, but with every word that gets carved his face relaxes more. There is an older woman, in her seventies probably, reading a book. She looks a little sad, yet there is the hint of a smile on her face. There is a woman, young, pretty, innocent looking. She’s listening to her MP3 player, Michael Jackson’s ‘Man in the Mirror’ is playing, deafening hard I imagine, since I can hear it across the room. Then there is him, the man carving. Concentrated, not aware of all the eyes on him. And there is me. These are hard times for dreamers, stranger.

i found myself the other night lying in the pool, my head resting on a rubber tube and my legs out of the water a lot browner than they were six months ago. around me, the people i call friends throw footballs back and forth and splash around and couples push each other against the tiled walls and kiss under the moonlight. i guess you could call this a beautiful scene because i’m happy being here, my ears under the water and the sound of california freedom barely pushing through my brain, the stars above me studding the static sky. some moments are made for reflection, some moments are made to detach yourself before the gorgeous girl in the black bikini wades over with a smile and reminds you of the social reality we all live in.

i don’t often reach crossroads, i normally always know my directions because up until now i’ve had a map in my messy scrawl. i’m always catching up with diary entries from three days ago recording feelings that have faded into the background of my life, kind of like how the wake of a boat is so powerful when we’re moving fast but the moment we slow down it melts into the warm froth of the ocean. kind of like that.

i can still think back to the night when we sat up until daybreak on the flea-bitten couches and talked about everything. i’ve never felt so pushed and pulled and wanted, never thought a lazy crooked smile could spell defeat in so many forgotten languages. we thought about power and lust and i don’t think we spoke about anywhere near enough of it but i love how you split yourself in half and let truth seep out of you, trickling out from your lips like the marijuana smoke you breathed into the still dry air. i guess i had a thing for you, for your smile i knew only for five days and the intensity of your stare. you make me wonder what’s spinning around in your brain; you captivate me. watching you is like counting cards, keeping up with your numbers and figures and calculations, watching you work me out and for once i’m the one keeping closed because although i said i’d never learn my lesson, i think i have. i’m a little more careful now. 

the quiet space beneath the warmth is filling my heart and you’re haunting my thoughts after i said a mild farewell to someone so complicated and burning. maybe i feel like i know you better than i do but i swear you felt it too, i saw that smile cross your face and leave again and i heard your sarcastic promises and knew they were real, and i was so bittersweet it felt beautiful. because i never really recorded and instead relied on my memory which is only patchy at the best of times and you were one of those. so i have a sewn split lip picture of your green eyes, the cigarette dangling between your lips, and how much you remind me of home. i thought of the second i will see my mother’s smiling face through the arrival gate turnstiles, of the goodbyes i will make soon and the quaint lives we will lead far from now. and that’s the kind of person you are, boiling and freezing and melting and thawing, so one day we will stay up late together again. we’ll search ourselves inside out and back to front, stretch each other sideways until the answers find a way of gushing out, i know that one day we will live. i give you my beautiful bittersweet promise that one day we will laugh and we will love. without the crossroads, without the map, we will find ourselves again.

athousandlittlewords:

nineteen.

It’s only noon and the clock refuses to stop moving. It doesn’t feel like summer up here; the days of the week are bleeding into each other and if it weren’t for the sun and the moon, I wouldn’t be able to tell where one ended and the next began. But if there’s anything that is constant, it’s the cold that comes with the darkness of night. It sits heavy in my chest, underneath the monkey bars of my ribcage and lays there until the morning sun returns again, opening her big, beautiful eyes and reminding me to scrape Yesterday from under my fingernails because it has passed and I have a habit of forgetting to remember. 

lullabysounds:

There will be other lives.

“There will be other lives for nervous boys with sweaty palms, for bittersweet fumblings in the backseats of cars, for caps and gowns in royal blue and crimson, for mothers clasping pretty pearl necklaces around daughters’ unlined necks, for your full name read aloud in an auditorium, for brand-new suitcases transporting you to strange new people in strange new lands.

And there will be other lives for unpaid debts, for one-night stands, for Prague and Paris, for painful shoes with pointy toes, for indecision and revisions.

And there will be other lives for fathers walking daughters down aisles.

And there will be other lives for sweet babies with skin like milk. And there will be other lives for a man you don’t recognize, for a face in a mirror that is no longer yours, for the funerals of intimates, for shrinking, for teeth that fall out, for hair on your chin, for forgetting everything. Everything.

Oh, there are so many lives. How we wish we could live them concurrently instead of one by one by one. We could select the best pieces of each, stringing them together like a strand of pearls. But that’s not how it works. A human’s life is a beautiful mess.”

Elsewhere, Gabrielle Zevin

i literally want to cry with how happy i am right now :) i just feel so comfortable and content with where i am, who i’m with and what i’m doing. it’s an emotion i’ve anticipated for so long, and it’s hit me in a wave of joy and i’m just so happy! :D

hi hi hi! well i’m back from our week in poland, back at our lovely house in the north of israel for a week of free time off the programme :) poland was absolutely INCREDIBLE, i had the most amazing time. going back for a second visit was probably the best thing i could have done after my first journey to the concentration camps just a year and a half ago. it could not have been more different - a new focus, a new style, and most important a new group of wonderful friends :) i’ll write properly about it more later if i have time, for now i’m just settling back into our house and today i went to the supermarket and bought food for the week…feels so strange having to take responsibility just to have breakfast in the morning :P hope everyone’s doing fantastically xxxxxxxxxxx

within 24 hours of moving into our new house:

• two broken plates
• one mouse in the kitchen
• an ambulance call-out
• two hospital trips
• three stitches in a girl’s back
• one broken sink 
• two electric shocks
• one earring lodged in an ear 
• one screaming match 

i’m starting to feel as if this place is a bad omen… but i love it anyway :P 

living in a massive house with 25 amazing friends, in the biggest room with four hilarious roomies, cooking our food together and packing for a trip to poland tomorrow… could life get any better? :) 

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