Exodus: A day in my life, Part V

I grab a plate and a fork. I fill up my plate with scrambled eggs; sprinkle some zatar seasoning on top, leave the dinning hall, and head to my room, where I can eat in peace.

Many of the people on the kibbutz enjoy the schmoozing during the meals. My dad is the same way. Put him in a room with a bunch of people and he can talk and talk and talk. Back in Ventura, during oneg Shabbats he is always one of the last people to leave. My mom always wants to go, but he talks and talks and talks.  
 
I notice that when I work with the goats I am always eager to eat breakfast, but when I work in the kitchen I find it more pleasant to eat outside. My room takes only a couple of minutes to reach from the dining hall. As I am walking I see familiar faces and I smile at them. The people are nice, but at the same time I miss walking down the street anonymously.

I reach my room, open the door, and turn on my laptop computer. While the computer is loading I begin eating the scrambled eggs. I am not hungry as I had eaten a sandwich a couple hours before.
 
The kibbutz is full of food and lots of it. You can go back for seconds, thirds, fourths, and fifths. One thing I don’t have to worry about is starvation. I can even grab disposable storage containers and fill as many as I want.  Nonetheless, I’m not eating so much. Perhaps it is my mood. If I were feeling better I would eat more. Also, when I do eat I am usually sitting with people and going back for seconds would mean spending more time with people.
 
Perhaps you think I am a misanthrope. This is not the case. I like being around people, but not for long periods of time.       
 
My computer has loaded up and I check the news in Israel. Kassam rockets have landed in Sderot. No one was injured, but there was some damage to a house. The Israeli Defense Forces killed two wanted terrorists in the West Bank. Israel is concerned there will be a war with Syria and Ehud Olmert’s approval rating has reached a new low of negative 200 percent.
 
I check my latest blog entry to see if it received any responses. I notice three people took the time to respond. I’m surprised. I feel my writing has taken a turn for the worse on the kibbutz. The latest response has come from Victor Ashkenazy. I feel good. Victor seems to always comment about what I write, which gives me the motivation to keep on writing. Thank you Victor.   
 
I then click on the up to the minute news. The Israeli teachers are threatening to strike.  Hugo Chavez has expressed support for Iran’s nuclear program. Two people were killed and four people were injured in an accident in northern Israel, and the Israeli Border Police foiled a suicide attack in the Tel-Aviv region.
 
The Israel news seems a world away. I am living in Israel, but the closest city is Eilat which is 50 kilometers away. I miss my good friends David and Andrei, who are living in Jerusalem.  I miss the cars. I miss trash on the streets. I miss walking around the city.  I miss seeing the Arabs. I miss seeing the Orthodox Jews.   
 
I came to the kibbutz with the idea that I would feel better without the trappings of city life, without the worries of paying the bills for rent, without the worries of paying for food, without the worries of finding a suitable place to live, with nice roommates. I thought the kibbutz would be a nice environment for me to write. I thought the kibbutz might provide me an environment that I would feel comfortable in.  A place where I could thrive and grow.  This hasn’t been the case. I have made up my mind that I am going to leave, but I don’t know when. Where would I live?  What would I do? I am afraid. I am paralyzed by fear.
 
When I am working with Pome, the Comic artist from Paris, I confide in her my feelings. She listens and laughs at my dark comments. At least I make her laugh. Despite my feelings, I feel good that she laughs. Laughter is magic.
 
I finish my scrambled eggs and then check the headlines on Yahoo news. Ten Americans were killed in Iraq, pushing the American death toll past 3,000. Paris Hilton is going to jail and the American dollar is losing strength to the Euro.
 
I have 15 more minutes until I have to return to work. I turn off my computer, lay down on a mattress in my living room, and close my eyes.  I set my alarm clock for 9:30 and take a ten-minute nap. I shut my eyes and drift off to sleepy land.
 
Beep beep….beep beep….beep beep…beep beep
 
It is 9:30. Time to go back to work.
 
I arrive at the kitchen at 9:33, three minutes later than my half hour break but Dani and Sigi say nothing. I’m a good worker and they give me my space.
 
Breakfast ends at 9:30. It’s time to clean up the dining hall and start getting ready for lunch and the Shabbat evening meal.