I haven't posted anything from my Israel journal yet because I have been struck at how boring my writing sounded when I had just turned twelve. Not that I've improved that drastically, but it is interesting to see how differently I sounded when I wrote.
Three years ago from yesterday this is part of what I wrote:
Next we crossed the street around 3:30 and had a delightfully fun time in the Dead Sea. We had to be careful not to touch our eyes or to splash (or drink it) and such things, but it was super. It was amazing to be able to float and lie in the water so easily and so comfortably. It was funny and cool; I felt like I could effortlessly lie there, feeling like I was floating on air, and read. We went to the hot springs (which you cannot be in any longer than 15 minutes) and I felt like going asleep as I floated. I went back down and joined everybody (all but Daddy, Mama, [Rachel], and Wesley) in plastering ourselves with "Dead Sea mud" (it's supposed to be good for your skin because of minerals in it), which is gray, gooey, like clay, and fun to play with. I didn't do it as much as everyone else, but it was hilarious. Some people were covered from head to toe, with gray faces and all. Cameras clicked for sure (though Rachel kindly clicked them, since most of the cameras' masters' hands were inconveniently slimy and muddy), and by quarter of five we went to the outside rinse-off, [then the] freshwater shower, and got dressed and out to the m[mini]-bus by five, which was when the swimming place closed.
Next is something I wrote three years ago from this very day. My current comments and corrections are in the bracket thingies "[ ]."
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
I got up at about 7:00. After getting ready for the day I started a math test. At about 9:15, Craig, Kendra, Clyde, and I left and walked quite quickly to the New City. We sat down, and in a few minutes, at 10:00, the Holocaust siren rang. Long and thick it sounded, for a whole minute or more. Everyone (cars and people included) stood as still as stones, like statues; no real movement was seen up and down the [once-bustling] street, with no sound but the forever-moaning siren. Then, quite suddenly, the siren died down, people unfroze, and everything went surprisingly quickly back to as it was before.
We walked on down the street and we met Mama and Daddy. Mama said that when the siren rang they were right outside the CNN building, and a man came rushing out [with a video camera] and focused on Marie's face! Then, Mum said she thought he was walking past her, but he turned and zoomed the camera on her face! She said it was hard to keep a straight face and she was glad she had her sunglasses on so you couldn't see her eyes.
We parted, and went into a Jewish neighborhood and walked and walked and walked to cover new ground. Then we walked to the Old City at sometime between 12:15-12:45.
We stopped and Clyde and I got two different types of falafel (he got a chicken one), then we walked on, doing nothing in particular. Craig was looking for sunglasses (he lost his sometime last week), and one place we stopped there was a man (maybe 25 [his estimated age]) who tried to be helpful. He took out a few ones for Craig to try on, [and] he "recommended" one or two. Craig would try them on, and look in a small mirror. He finally decided on a pair that he liked. He asked how much it was. 95 sheqels [is the plural supposed to be "-im?"] was the reply. He said he couldn't afford that. The man asked what he thought. Maybe 25 sheqels, Craig replied. "No, no!" cried the man. "Now, these," he pulled down a different pair, "I could give you for 30, but these, look, they're sturdy; they're a very good quality! . . ." He took the ones Craig liked and began bending the earpieces on the frames. "Crack--snap!" The sunglasses broke. The man had a momentary split-second pause of surprise, but, as if all part of his salesmanship showing, he smoothly recovered and just as energetically as before said, "And they break! But I can get you another pair. . . . " We left. We went around the corner and all burst out laughing.
We looked in a nice Jewish man's shop [probably the Shorishim], then, near the Jewish square, Craig and Kendra got bagel sandwiches, and Craig bought two three-sheqel yummy sugared "donuts" [no idea why that's in quotes!].
Next we headed home. On Route One, near the beginning of our trip home, I fell in the middle of a cross-walk. Two skinned, slightly bleeding knees, a skinned, slightly bleeding elbow, skinned on the back one hand, and two filthy hands [were what I got as a result]. [As a matter of fact, Craig informed me weeks ago that he wrote in his journal that I fell in the cross walk and neither of us could for the world of us remember it, and I was even skeptical, though it sounded funny, but here is double proof written here that it really did happen! How embarrassing. . .]
[. . . .] We had a dinner of chicken, rice, corn, bread, and fresh vegetables at 5:20.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Punching a Wall
I punched a wall the other day. It's mighty strange, because I feel like I'm often doing kluzty things, though less recently than I used to. In fact, it wouldn't be too unusual for me to sail around a corner and knock off our portable phone with my shoulder, or nick my fingers on a banister as I race upstairs, or run into the table with my hip, or hit a clothes rack as I'm walking by in the store, or knock a telephone off with my knee (this tends to happen when you're at my cousins' house). All these are just normal little things. Can you relate to any of them?
But like I said, I punched a wall the other day. Quite by accident, you understand. You see I was running down the hallway, my fists pumping automatically like they are supposed to do when you are running, when wham!!! My knuckles caught the doorpost of my dad's study. Ouch. But then I didn't really think much of it, until I glanced down and observed a blotchy red spot with some interest, and a satisfied feeling of so-that's-why-it-hurt. So now I can say that I punched a wall the other day. Of course it didn't happen as bad as it sounds, but I like to say I did it because it makes me feel cool and happy with myself. So now you get to hear about it. :-)
But like I said, I punched a wall the other day. Quite by accident, you understand. You see I was running down the hallway, my fists pumping automatically like they are supposed to do when you are running, when wham!!! My knuckles caught the doorpost of my dad's study. Ouch. But then I didn't really think much of it, until I glanced down and observed a blotchy red spot with some interest, and a satisfied feeling of so-that's-why-it-hurt. So now I can say that I punched a wall the other day. Of course it didn't happen as bad as it sounds, but I like to say I did it because it makes me feel cool and happy with myself. So now you get to hear about it. :-)
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Surprise Endings
Last year after my family got back from Norway, I felt like writing something unusual. So here is something that I sent to a few of my friends then:
Dear friends,
I'm afraid I have some dire news for you. That is, it may be tragic for you but it is the best thing that has ever happened to me. It seems that as my family and I traveled toward home from Reykjavik, Iceland, on our plane, they had some technical problems with the engine. It was quickly dying, and as the pilot lost control he couldn't get the plane in time to the nearest safety. Suddenly, the engine sputtered and stopped, and even as the crew frantically tried to replace it, we surged straight downward toward the middle of the cold Atlantic. My ears were practically bursting at the rapidly changing altitude and pressure, and for a moment I blacked out. Soon we were rushed toward the nearest exit, where I jumped out onto the plane wing with my sister Kendra and leaped toward the evacuation slides. As the massive blue water loomed ever nearer, we prepared to clamber into the life rafts that were being prepared for our use. Many people in a panic were rushing onto the plane wing. Suddenly, a mere score of feet from the water, the steep angle of the wing was too much for me, and I slipped. Before I could regain my balance, my feet were flung from under me and thrust into the still whirlingly trying rotors. Instantly I felt pain shoot through every nerve, and then everything went cold. The water encased me, and as I struggled at kicking my feet and staying above the water, I found that I couldn't move them. I sunk farther and farther, my lunges bursting, but feeling strangely sleepy and very peaceful. Blackness encompassed me, and I knew no more. To make a long story short, quite frankly I'm dead. Don't worry, I'm not in the hot place, but in a place of melodious joy and whiteness. The chaps up here aren't a bit stuffy as we might have supposed, and they play the harp quite expertly--better than Yo Yo Ma any day, supposing he could play the harp. Also, I've become better friends with Someone very special. I hope you will too.
I'll be praying for you. Still fast and forever you friend,
Kayla Rebecca--I'm afraid I can't give you my new name yet!
Don't you just love surprise endings? Now this one may not have come as a surprise to you, as I was rather hinting stuff as we went along, but in general I think surprise endings are very nifty, for the obvious reason that you're not expecting them. Sometimes I don't like the book that you just know what's going to happen, and it's always obvious who so-and-so is going to fall in love with, etc. This particular technique that I used, (that is, writing in first person and ending with the fact that you died), will usually come as a complete shock to most because obviously it never occurs to people that you can write such things in other places rather than on earth. I actually got the idea from Mr. Pass, (thank you Mr. P!) as he told us in writing club that one year he told the bibleschool guys a story of how he met a bear in the woods and as he got to the climactic point, sitting on the edge of their seats so to speak, he told him that he had died. Hmm. . . obviously this style of story is not of the most truthful variety.
While I am on the subject of surprise endings, I shall mention some stories I have read that I thought had good ones. For one thing, Agatha Christie is very good with surprise endings. It's odd because almost every time you try to form theories they are almost always wrong! Like in this one I recently read, the person who was first suspected of committing the murder then became the least suspected, and then she was the one who did it! I also remember reading some stories I enjoyed in 7th grade literature. One of them, called Gold-Mounted Guns, had an unusual ending on the amusing side, and the other, called The Last Leaf, had a surprise ending on the more sad and touching aspect. Great stories, each one of them.
Dear friends,
I'm afraid I have some dire news for you. That is, it may be tragic for you but it is the best thing that has ever happened to me. It seems that as my family and I traveled toward home from Reykjavik, Iceland, on our plane, they had some technical problems with the engine. It was quickly dying, and as the pilot lost control he couldn't get the plane in time to the nearest safety. Suddenly, the engine sputtered and stopped, and even as the crew frantically tried to replace it, we surged straight downward toward the middle of the cold Atlantic. My ears were practically bursting at the rapidly changing altitude and pressure, and for a moment I blacked out. Soon we were rushed toward the nearest exit, where I jumped out onto the plane wing with my sister Kendra and leaped toward the evacuation slides. As the massive blue water loomed ever nearer, we prepared to clamber into the life rafts that were being prepared for our use. Many people in a panic were rushing onto the plane wing. Suddenly, a mere score of feet from the water, the steep angle of the wing was too much for me, and I slipped. Before I could regain my balance, my feet were flung from under me and thrust into the still whirlingly trying rotors. Instantly I felt pain shoot through every nerve, and then everything went cold. The water encased me, and as I struggled at kicking my feet and staying above the water, I found that I couldn't move them. I sunk farther and farther, my lunges bursting, but feeling strangely sleepy and very peaceful. Blackness encompassed me, and I knew no more. To make a long story short, quite frankly I'm dead. Don't worry, I'm not in the hot place, but in a place of melodious joy and whiteness. The chaps up here aren't a bit stuffy as we might have supposed, and they play the harp quite expertly--better than Yo Yo Ma any day, supposing he could play the harp. Also, I've become better friends with Someone very special. I hope you will too.
I'll be praying for you. Still fast and forever you friend,
Kayla Rebecca--I'm afraid I can't give you my new name yet!
Don't you just love surprise endings? Now this one may not have come as a surprise to you, as I was rather hinting stuff as we went along, but in general I think surprise endings are very nifty, for the obvious reason that you're not expecting them. Sometimes I don't like the book that you just know what's going to happen, and it's always obvious who so-and-so is going to fall in love with, etc. This particular technique that I used, (that is, writing in first person and ending with the fact that you died), will usually come as a complete shock to most because obviously it never occurs to people that you can write such things in other places rather than on earth. I actually got the idea from Mr. Pass, (thank you Mr. P!) as he told us in writing club that one year he told the bibleschool guys a story of how he met a bear in the woods and as he got to the climactic point, sitting on the edge of their seats so to speak, he told him that he had died. Hmm. . . obviously this style of story is not of the most truthful variety.
While I am on the subject of surprise endings, I shall mention some stories I have read that I thought had good ones. For one thing, Agatha Christie is very good with surprise endings. It's odd because almost every time you try to form theories they are almost always wrong! Like in this one I recently read, the person who was first suspected of committing the murder then became the least suspected, and then she was the one who did it! I also remember reading some stories I enjoyed in 7th grade literature. One of them, called Gold-Mounted Guns, had an unusual ending on the amusing side, and the other, called The Last Leaf, had a surprise ending on the more sad and touching aspect. Great stories, each one of them.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
A Little Rambling
Three years ago from this very day, we arrived in Israel. What an exciting time that was! What would await us? How many places would we explore? We felt very much like pioneers, in a fashion, from arriving at the empty house and discovering its crannies, to learning, often from experience, how to find your way around the city. Have you ever wondered what Israel might have seemed like from the eyes of an eleven-year-old? Probably different than I would even view it now. Therefore I am considering posting some journal entries that I made those three years ago. However, at the moment I'm not at home, so I don't have my journal to do this, but just you wait!
As for the past couple weeks, my life can basically be summed up with this: the Feast came, I got sick, we left to explore Maine lighthouses for a day or two, we returned, had a Sabbath, went to a memorial service, and left for Virginia. Hence is where I am now, loving every bit of my vacation, though I've still had to do some school.
Also about a week and half ago my new camera arrived! Ordered on Ebay, it's a Nikon N75 (like Clyde's, for those of you who know) and seems to work like an angel. It added a whole new delightful dimension to the lighthouses, as I would wander about taking snap after snap of the gorgeous things and probably way too many. But as Craig always says, you can never take too many pictures. That's not a bad philosophy, but I don't wholly agree, as I don't always want to pay for a lot of pictures that I don't like. Therefore I almost live in a fear of taking too many or too few pics. *sigh* However, it's still lots of fun, and I am especially liking my polarizer, as it makes skies seem so much bluer. Then, when we went to DC this past week, I again got to try my hand at attempting nice pictures. Admiring the picturesque cherry blossoms and probably taking one too many pictures of the Washington Monument, we appreciated the balmy weather and clear sky. We also sat in traffic for way too long, but that is beside the point.
Also, last night we attended my first cousin's once removed play. It was a dinner theater, and quite an amusing one at that, though very silly. Consisting of ghost stories and nightmares, the adventures kept us on our toes. With man hungry mashed potatoes, a ruthless cereal killer, finding out that you're dead, being kissed by a vampire, or watching a crazy teacher demonstrate the guillotine by chopping off a student's head. Man, that was an unusual evening!
As for the past couple weeks, my life can basically be summed up with this: the Feast came, I got sick, we left to explore Maine lighthouses for a day or two, we returned, had a Sabbath, went to a memorial service, and left for Virginia. Hence is where I am now, loving every bit of my vacation, though I've still had to do some school.
Also about a week and half ago my new camera arrived! Ordered on Ebay, it's a Nikon N75 (like Clyde's, for those of you who know) and seems to work like an angel. It added a whole new delightful dimension to the lighthouses, as I would wander about taking snap after snap of the gorgeous things and probably way too many. But as Craig always says, you can never take too many pictures. That's not a bad philosophy, but I don't wholly agree, as I don't always want to pay for a lot of pictures that I don't like. Therefore I almost live in a fear of taking too many or too few pics. *sigh* However, it's still lots of fun, and I am especially liking my polarizer, as it makes skies seem so much bluer. Then, when we went to DC this past week, I again got to try my hand at attempting nice pictures. Admiring the picturesque cherry blossoms and probably taking one too many pictures of the Washington Monument, we appreciated the balmy weather and clear sky. We also sat in traffic for way too long, but that is beside the point.
Also, last night we attended my first cousin's once removed play. It was a dinner theater, and quite an amusing one at that, though very silly. Consisting of ghost stories and nightmares, the adventures kept us on our toes. With man hungry mashed potatoes, a ruthless cereal killer, finding out that you're dead, being kissed by a vampire, or watching a crazy teacher demonstrate the guillotine by chopping off a student's head. Man, that was an unusual evening!
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