Here is a simple reason: I am scared my Hebrew will never be good enough.
Easy counterarguments: You never know until you try. Ulpan. It is easier to learn Hebrew when you are surrounded by it all day, and when you go earlier. Also, there will be English!
Easy counter-counterargument: This would involve me actually moving to Israel first.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Why Not Move: Cultural Reasons
The idea of moving is starting to worry me. Will I fit into Israeli culture, even assuming I had the language skills to discuss it?
More importantly, and here is a question I will definitely want to research: what is American culture? I don't feel like we have much of a culture here, other than "instant" success and hard work. I'm really not into the music, and I like different kinds of books. I'm not into movies, so what's left? What's so great about American culture?
In the spirit of American thinking, I am going to write -- without evidence from respectable sources, I know (all research and thinking done before September is preliminary) -- that American culture is what you make it, and that American culture is itself free from singular labels. For me, American culture is a melting pot (this is not something I like, necessarily). American culture is freedom. It is Bob Dylan and Ernest Hemingway.
It looks like, for me, American culture is something I can still enjoy from abroad. In Israel, I might have the privilege to enjoy something sometimes labeled as "only in Israel."
More importantly, and here is a question I will definitely want to research: what is American culture? I don't feel like we have much of a culture here, other than "instant" success and hard work. I'm really not into the music, and I like different kinds of books. I'm not into movies, so what's left? What's so great about American culture?
In the spirit of American thinking, I am going to write -- without evidence from respectable sources, I know (all research and thinking done before September is preliminary) -- that American culture is what you make it, and that American culture is itself free from singular labels. For me, American culture is a melting pot (this is not something I like, necessarily). American culture is freedom. It is Bob Dylan and Ernest Hemingway.
It looks like, for me, American culture is something I can still enjoy from abroad. In Israel, I might have the privilege to enjoy something sometimes labeled as "only in Israel."
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Master's Degree Programs in Israel
I had some time to do a little bit of research. Here's what I found, taken directly from the source:
. . .
My mom doesn't seem to be taking anything not related to the plan she has thought out for me, or at least that's what I am making of her comment that I didn't need internships in [Israel-related programs. Privacy.] last year.
Master’s Degree ProgramsMaster’s degree programs are designed to provide the student with in-depth knowledge and research capabilities in a particular field. Most of these programs usually extend over a period of two years.
Admission Requirements: The requirements for admission to master’s degree programs at Israeli universities are similar to those at Western universities. Generally, a “B” average is required; however, some departments require a higher average in the student’s major field, while others may conditionally accept students with lower grades. In some cases, special tests (e.g., GRE, GMAT) and/or personal interviews are required. An adequate knowledge of Hebrew for class participation is necessary. An ulpan may be taken prior to the opening of the academic year.
Many departments offer two trends. One requires students to write a master’s thesis and allows them to pursue doctoral studies in the department, while the other does not require a thesis and is designed for students who do not intend to pursue a doctorate in the department.
Undergraduate studies in Israel are highly specialized; therefore, most students who earn their bachelor’s degree abroad are required to take supplementary courses prior to or in conjunction with their regular graduate studies.
. . .
My mom doesn't seem to be taking anything not related to the plan she has thought out for me, or at least that's what I am making of her comment that I didn't need internships in [Israel-related programs. Privacy.] last year.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
And if I Do Stay in the US...
...I will explore my city more. I will be a tourist in my own city, but in a good way: I will fall in love with my country by getting to know it better.
On Law: Rough Ideas
Two events that influenced this post: I went to a courthouse (and its library) today. I downloaded and read a re- qualification exam for the Israeli bar (actually not as bad as I thought it would be, given I am educated on Israel-specific terms).
Pros of Law* in Israel (/Cons of Law in US)
1. There will not be 50 states with laws and case studies of their own.
2. There will be fewer "states" and maybe even case studies (Israel is at least a new democracy).
3. Hebrew: I want to love to use it.
4. English: I know it better than the natives do.
5. Life outside of work!
Cons of Law in Israel (/Pros of Law in US)
1. Aramaic (who knew?! There were some Aramaic words on the re-qualification exam).
2. Hebrew: the natives know it better than I do.
3. Opportunities -- will there be more or fewer?
The verdict: I need to do research. I can't even make up my mind without it!
*N.B "Law" here refers to "law," "being a lawyer" and all relevant terms
Pros of Law* in Israel (/Cons of Law in US)
1. There will not be 50 states with laws and case studies of their own.
2. There will be fewer "states" and maybe even case studies (Israel is at least a new democracy).
3. Hebrew: I want to love to use it.
4. English: I know it better than the natives do.
5. Life outside of work!
Cons of Law in Israel (/Pros of Law in US)
1. Aramaic (who knew?! There were some Aramaic words on the re-qualification exam).
2. Hebrew: the natives know it better than I do.
3. Opportunities -- will there be more or fewer?
The verdict: I need to do research. I can't even make up my mind without it!
*N.B "Law" here refers to "law," "being a lawyer" and all relevant terms
Saturday, June 21, 2008
In Some Ideal World...
Looking at the Bar-Ilan website scared me today. If only there were a simple "download application here" button...instead there are many people to write to and many programs to consider. There is housing to consider. There is being alone and scared and forgetting to do basic things.
In times like these, I look to my imagination, which takes place on the border of reality and imagination. On the one hand, the path I choose to get to "unreality" is mostly realistic (or at least possible); on the other, the new reality that emerges is nothing like reality. In some ideal world, I would be a singer-songwriter; I would compose and write songs in Hebrew.
I begin in September, upon the discovery that a decade of violin lessons has given me the ability to play guitar, backwards. I take the bus to the recording studio every Friday, with a guitar on my back and a black bag filled with only the essentials: a Hebrew-English dictionary (even though I hate to use it, I need it sometimes), a blank notepad, and a comfortable black pen. I sit down at the piano in the recording studio, glancing nervously at the Israeli businessman/producer who is new enough to have faith in me, but old enough to have some experience. I move my fingers across a few keys with my left hand, and write lyrics with my right; if reporters ever ask me "Which comes first? The music or the lyrics?," I answer "Both."
Despite not having written a poem in Hebrew for the last two months, I manage to write these lyrics, for lack of better words, like magic. The titles I pick are a little too thought-out, but the lyrics are simple and relatable. The music is simple (without the noise that can be added in production), but it develops; it does not quite sound like Aviv Geffen at his best, but it has his spirit. The themes I write about include nostalgia and longing for the nineties, fear of not being accepted in a strange society, longing for love that will not come (a Romeo and Juliet who died even before they met), some anger towards my mother, love that can be found in a new family (which I dedicate to two very special people; it is my only dedication), and a line about hating the television.
My voice is not amazing, but neither is it bad, and it works with the music and the mood I create. The album does not have my name in the title, nor does it have my picture on the cover, or even inside the lyric booklet. I decide to include a note to those who bought the CD -- a little about myself, couched in poetry (this of course happens in a month).
The CD is a hit (not a mega-hit, but still noteworthy); people wonder why an American has decided to produce an album that is entirely in Hebrew (and very well-written, at that). It sparks debates about the nature of Israeli music, both its definition and its form today. It leads to my receipt of two prizes, and even a chance to speak on a talk show. I bring a translator with me to the show, but he falls asleep; I am forced to speak to the interviewer as best I can without his help, before I realize that I don't need him as much as I thought I did (though not as little as I had hoped).
I fly back to the United States on a Saturday night, and get to my dorm slightly jet-lagged. My mom comes to see me, and asks whether I can read all the writing on the prize; I can't. She smirks. I don't like it, but I am too tired to care. I want to produce another album, though it will be a year after something comes out. At least I have proof that I can survive and profit in Israel.
Before long, I find myself living in Israel, more comfortable than I thought I would be, but less comfortable than I had hoped. My minor fame affords me the ability to write some prose, and it too provokes some interesting debate. Yehonatan Geffen eventually invites me too lunch, and we have a great talk (a great portion of which I spend fawning over him); it is imprinted in my memory forever (and made all the better because we somehow manage to avoid the annoying paparazzi, who are even more annoying than American paparazzi). I cherish the white color of the tea cups we drink from and I remember the breeze flowing through his gray hair. We talk some about love, about writing, and about politics.
Life then goes on, somehow, in Israel.
In times like these, I look to my imagination, which takes place on the border of reality and imagination. On the one hand, the path I choose to get to "unreality" is mostly realistic (or at least possible); on the other, the new reality that emerges is nothing like reality. In some ideal world, I would be a singer-songwriter; I would compose and write songs in Hebrew.
I begin in September, upon the discovery that a decade of violin lessons has given me the ability to play guitar, backwards. I take the bus to the recording studio every Friday, with a guitar on my back and a black bag filled with only the essentials: a Hebrew-English dictionary (even though I hate to use it, I need it sometimes), a blank notepad, and a comfortable black pen. I sit down at the piano in the recording studio, glancing nervously at the Israeli businessman/producer who is new enough to have faith in me, but old enough to have some experience. I move my fingers across a few keys with my left hand, and write lyrics with my right; if reporters ever ask me "Which comes first? The music or the lyrics?," I answer "Both."
Despite not having written a poem in Hebrew for the last two months, I manage to write these lyrics, for lack of better words, like magic. The titles I pick are a little too thought-out, but the lyrics are simple and relatable. The music is simple (without the noise that can be added in production), but it develops; it does not quite sound like Aviv Geffen at his best, but it has his spirit. The themes I write about include nostalgia and longing for the nineties, fear of not being accepted in a strange society, longing for love that will not come (a Romeo and Juliet who died even before they met), some anger towards my mother, love that can be found in a new family (which I dedicate to two very special people; it is my only dedication), and a line about hating the television.
My voice is not amazing, but neither is it bad, and it works with the music and the mood I create. The album does not have my name in the title, nor does it have my picture on the cover, or even inside the lyric booklet. I decide to include a note to those who bought the CD -- a little about myself, couched in poetry (this of course happens in a month).
The CD is a hit (not a mega-hit, but still noteworthy); people wonder why an American has decided to produce an album that is entirely in Hebrew (and very well-written, at that). It sparks debates about the nature of Israeli music, both its definition and its form today. It leads to my receipt of two prizes, and even a chance to speak on a talk show. I bring a translator with me to the show, but he falls asleep; I am forced to speak to the interviewer as best I can without his help, before I realize that I don't need him as much as I thought I did (though not as little as I had hoped).
I fly back to the United States on a Saturday night, and get to my dorm slightly jet-lagged. My mom comes to see me, and asks whether I can read all the writing on the prize; I can't. She smirks. I don't like it, but I am too tired to care. I want to produce another album, though it will be a year after something comes out. At least I have proof that I can survive and profit in Israel.
Before long, I find myself living in Israel, more comfortable than I thought I would be, but less comfortable than I had hoped. My minor fame affords me the ability to write some prose, and it too provokes some interesting debate. Yehonatan Geffen eventually invites me too lunch, and we have a great talk (a great portion of which I spend fawning over him); it is imprinted in my memory forever (and made all the better because we somehow manage to avoid the annoying paparazzi, who are even more annoying than American paparazzi). I cherish the white color of the tea cups we drink from and I remember the breeze flowing through his gray hair. We talk some about love, about writing, and about politics.
Life then goes on, somehow, in Israel.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Other Reasons
Once again, this blog isn't quite turning out the way I thought it would. It will be better-researched once I get to school and consider less "ideological" reasons to go, and just Israel in general. While I originally thought I would focus on the language-related and cultural reasons to go, Israel is too complex for me to make that kind of distinction. Politics, for example, can enter discussions, or everyday life even, often: eg., falafel: whose national dish is it? (though I'd prefer to shut up and eat). I know that is not a strong argument; complex issues are often simplified. More importantly, though, this decision is too big for me to focus on language alone; it will not prepare me for the eventual argument I will have with my mom.
I can't quite explain it, but I get really angry about biased news about Israel. If I were actually in Israel, it would make more sense for me to get angry. I would feel less odd wanting to do something about it, and I would have more credibility if I actually did.
I can't quite explain it, but I get really angry about biased news about Israel. If I were actually in Israel, it would make more sense for me to get angry. I would feel less odd wanting to do something about it, and I would have more credibility if I actually did.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Reason #7: I'm sick of English (some thoughts)
I was sitting on the train today and saw a relatively old-aged woman reading an "Introduction to Public Health" book. It made me imagine myself as an old person and still reading books in English.
I did not like the thought of that.
Here's what I thought of:
1. English seems like a weaker language to me. Hebrew is simpler than English.
Part of the reason is that Hebrew inflects. "I was dancing and singing" can be said in two "words" (or three). While this can be a disadvantage (no internal grammatical distinction between different past tenses: I was walking, vs. I walked), I'd prefer to lose something here and be able speak more concisely. While it also true that Hebrew can get unwieldy or awkward, it is concise much of the time.
2. English is not connected to the original Bible.
3. Hebrew is easier to speak more quickly in, it seems.
Part of it is Hebrew's ability to inflect.
4. English does not seem as quirky as Hebrew to me. I like quirky.
Part of it is Hebrew's ability to steal from other languages (like English) and part of it is Hebrew's need to adjust to modernity (I've read that many computer terms, for instance, are identical to ones used in English).
5. English is not a challenge for me.
This can be an advantage and a disadvantage, but I'll take it!
6. English does not open as large a world of discovery for me as does Hebrew.
7. I like that fewer people speak Hebrew.
While I'll lose some of the privacy that Hebrew affords me here, it is also true that I cannot use Hebrew to its full extent here. I cannot speak it. I am wondering how much I want that privacy.
8. I want to use Hebrew to its full extent.
. . . the list goes on.
I did not like the thought of that.
Here's what I thought of:
1. English seems like a weaker language to me. Hebrew is simpler than English.
Part of the reason is that Hebrew inflects. "I was dancing and singing" can be said in two "words" (or three). While this can be a disadvantage (no internal grammatical distinction between different past tenses: I was walking, vs. I walked), I'd prefer to lose something here and be able speak more concisely. While it also true that Hebrew can get unwieldy or awkward, it is concise much of the time.
2. English is not connected to the original Bible.
3. Hebrew is easier to speak more quickly in, it seems.
Part of it is Hebrew's ability to inflect.
4. English does not seem as quirky as Hebrew to me. I like quirky.
Part of it is Hebrew's ability to steal from other languages (like English) and part of it is Hebrew's need to adjust to modernity (I've read that many computer terms, for instance, are identical to ones used in English).
5. English is not a challenge for me.
This can be an advantage and a disadvantage, but I'll take it!
6. English does not open as large a world of discovery for me as does Hebrew.
7. I like that fewer people speak Hebrew.
While I'll lose some of the privacy that Hebrew affords me here, it is also true that I cannot use Hebrew to its full extent here. I cannot speak it. I am wondering how much I want that privacy.
8. I want to use Hebrew to its full extent.
. . . the list goes on.
Why Move?: Reason # 6
I had hoped this blog would be mostly positive, but I can't decide to go to Israel and not also decide to mostly leave America.
There was an article on the "25 Best Heavy Metal Bands" today and it made me wish Aviv Geffen was on it; of course, that feeling didn't really make sense. Aviv's music, which can generally described as Pop/Rock (which is itself a really broad categorization), is described as glam rock, (new) prog rock, post punk rock and others on such sources as Wikipedia. What really matters, though, is the feeling I had that Israeli artists should be included on it.
Israeli music is the kind I listen to, unlike user "craig c," who wrote, "So where is Motley Crue?[] I spent a lot of my youth listening to these bands and Crue was always there!" Unlike this user, I didn't get a chance to grow up listening to a band. I got my music from VH1 and Magic 106.7, which was my mom's favorite station. In my early high school days, and all through high school, my mom didn't let me listen to music (I am not blaming her; while it is also true that I had no time to listen to music, if listening to non-classical music was at least encouraged at home, things would have turned out differently; my mom might have wanted to do so to encourage me to maintain my Hebrew skills, for example). Instead, my youth and teenage years began and are still continuing through college. Israeli music is my new "youth."
I want to go to Israel because I want to read about my youth in the papers. I want lists to include Israeli artists. I don't even mind not knowing the bands, because then I will both enjoy the music and/or learn the language. I didn't know all of the bands on Rob O'Conner's [Yahoo's] list, but I am too sick of English to care. That is a subject for another post.
There was an article on the "25 Best Heavy Metal Bands" today and it made me wish Aviv Geffen was on it; of course, that feeling didn't really make sense. Aviv's music, which can generally described as Pop/Rock (which is itself a really broad categorization), is described as glam rock, (new) prog rock, post punk rock and others on such sources as Wikipedia. What really matters, though, is the feeling I had that Israeli artists should be included on it.
Israeli music is the kind I listen to, unlike user "craig c," who wrote, "So where is Motley Crue?[] I spent a lot of my youth listening to these bands and Crue was always there!" Unlike this user, I didn't get a chance to grow up listening to a band. I got my music from VH1 and Magic 106.7, which was my mom's favorite station. In my early high school days, and all through high school, my mom didn't let me listen to music (I am not blaming her; while it is also true that I had no time to listen to music, if listening to non-classical music was at least encouraged at home, things would have turned out differently; my mom might have wanted to do so to encourage me to maintain my Hebrew skills, for example). Instead, my youth and teenage years began and are still continuing through college. Israeli music is my new "youth."
I want to go to Israel because I want to read about my youth in the papers. I want lists to include Israeli artists. I don't even mind not knowing the bands, because then I will both enjoy the music and/or learn the language. I didn't know all of the bands on Rob O'Conner's [Yahoo's] list, but I am too sick of English to care. That is a subject for another post.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Why Move? -- Some Reasons
Because I keep going back and forth on whether or not I actually want to do this, I am going to make a partial list. Sure, it's not all original, but as long as it has meaning for me, it's worth it. It boils down to language, culture, and religious spirit.
Language-related reasons:
1. I want to think, read, write, and speak in Hebrew.
2. I want to go to a concert in Hebrew with ease, especially Aviv Geffen's concerts.
3. I want to buy Israeli music with ease.
4. I want to buy Israeli books with ease.
5. I want to immerse myself in the weird cultural world that is Israel. I will have the chance to discover a brand new world.
Other reasons:
1. I want people to tell me what they think -- none of this fake "and how are you?!" business, no smiles that hide cruel thoughts (it's not like that won't happen in Israel, but it won't be as sugar-covered as it is over here).
2. I want a better sense of community. I believe that at the end of the day, people are people and they will care about themselves, but I believe that there must be a little more community in Israel, or, more accurately, a greater attempt to create one.
3. I want to be in a young country.
4. I want my Judaism to be more "natural" in my country.
Language-related reasons:
1. I want to think, read, write, and speak in Hebrew.
2. I want to go to a concert in Hebrew with ease, especially Aviv Geffen's concerts.
3. I want to buy Israeli music with ease.
4. I want to buy Israeli books with ease.
5. I want to immerse myself in the weird cultural world that is Israel. I will have the chance to discover a brand new world.
Other reasons:
1. I want people to tell me what they think -- none of this fake "and how are you?!" business, no smiles that hide cruel thoughts (it's not like that won't happen in Israel, but it won't be as sugar-covered as it is over here).
2. I want a better sense of community. I believe that at the end of the day, people are people and they will care about themselves, but I believe that there must be a little more community in Israel, or, more accurately, a greater attempt to create one.
3. I want to be in a young country.
4. I want my Judaism to be more "natural" in my country.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
On Language
My mom and I somehow got into a conversation about language and writing. She said that even a person who knows a language very, very well will never write like a native speaker who grew up in his native culture. I can understand what she said, and I even agree with her to some extent, but I believe that I can actually feel languages really well. I can -- and have -- gotten to the point where I do not need to "think" in English in order to write or speak in a foreign language. The words just flow (when I write, anyway).
Even if my mom were correct, and there were no exceptions to her rule, this would only hurt me if I decided to become a writer. I can surely get around in a language and make friends in another country (and no, I am not naively expecting anyone to come to me). If my mom's "rule" were false, there would be fewer immigrants.
I think Hebrew will make life more difficult for me, and I really, really wish my Hebrew were better now, but I will not let that stop me.
It bothers me that my mom, an immigrant, still has an accent, that she doesn't know as many words as I expect to know in Hebrew, and that some people don't understand her (because of her accent, which is actually not that prominent). If I go for graduate school or even later, I will still be younger than she was when she came to America, and will hopefully avoid some of those problems. Yes, I have an ugly American accent, but it is not as prominent as other peoples'. If I do more work, I will know more vocabulary; as a writer (in spirit, not in profession, exactly), I will have an easier time with the language. It will be okay.
Even if my mom were correct, and there were no exceptions to her rule, this would only hurt me if I decided to become a writer. I can surely get around in a language and make friends in another country (and no, I am not naively expecting anyone to come to me). If my mom's "rule" were false, there would be fewer immigrants.
I think Hebrew will make life more difficult for me, and I really, really wish my Hebrew were better now, but I will not let that stop me.
It bothers me that my mom, an immigrant, still has an accent, that she doesn't know as many words as I expect to know in Hebrew, and that some people don't understand her (because of her accent, which is actually not that prominent). If I go for graduate school or even later, I will still be younger than she was when she came to America, and will hopefully avoid some of those problems. Yes, I have an ugly American accent, but it is not as prominent as other peoples'. If I do more work, I will know more vocabulary; as a writer (in spirit, not in profession, exactly), I will have an easier time with the language. It will be okay.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Geffen on Hebrew and Israel
Well, at least one guy has something to say that relates to my idea. In an interview with MOOMA, famous poet Yehonatan Geffen said,
אנחנו עושים אהבה עם זקנה סקסית בת אלפיים בשם העברית. השפה היא הסיבה שאני נשאר
כאן, לא המדינה ולא ראש הממשלה, אומר יהונתן גפן
For those who can’t read this, Geffen said he stayed in Israel because of the language, not the state, and not the prime minister. It makes sense for him, as a writer.
It makes sense for me as a writer, too. I am in no way comparing my writing with Geffen's, but I feel his connection to the language. He values his words. In the introduction to his book אשה יקרה (the book translates it as "Lovely Lady"; I have only begun reading, so I am not sure how accurate that is), Geffen thanks his eraser!Source: MOOMA /Channel Two News
Article: גשם כבד נפל מזמן
Date: 17/05/2008 23:48
About: Part One
Type “why make aliyah” into Google. The first link you will come upon (at this “publication”) is “Jacob Richman’s Aliyah Page,” an interesting resource for people considering aliyah. Unfortunately, the “Why Aliyah?” page contains predictable responses for people “moving on up”: fulfilling what they see as the most important commandment given to them by G-d, living a Jewish life, investing in Israel’s future, etc. I do not mean to offend the people who offered these reasons; for them, these were the “pull factors” that brought them across the Atlantic.
But I, like S.Y. Agnon wrote in “In the Heart of the Seas,” am not ready to run in front of the bride and groom to the wedding canopy. I would like to consider other reasons for moving to Israel. Sure, the fact that it will be easier for me to keep kosher or to take vacations on Jewish holidays is attractive, but that alone will not get me there. Another factor is much stronger for me, one that actually did not originate in thoughts about aliyah.
My “connection” (loosely-phrased) to Israel (not “the land” of Israel, but just Israel, a point on a map) began with Hebrew lessons I had taken at a Jewish day school from kindergarten (or first grade; my memory fails me) to eighth grade. I was a little sad to see my lessons end in June 2002, and I even thought about attending a Jewish high school for the Hebrew. I ended up going to a public high school with vague ideas of working on Hebrew in my “spare time.” School work, extracurriculars, and even a meager social life pushed those plans aside.
My love for Hebrew lay dormant at the end of eighth grade until it was finally woken up my freshman year of college. When I was finally given the opportunity to live away from home, I decided to spend some of my time as I wanted — trying to re-teach myself the Hebrew I had forgotten. Access to high-speed internet gave me the chance to listen to Galgalatz (the main Israeli radio station) and to watch videos in Hebrew on YouTube. I don’t remember the details, but somehow I connected the huge impression that was made on me in day school on the day Yitzhak Rabin (then prime minister of Israel) was assassinated, Aviv Geffen’s song, Livkot Lecha (’To Cry for You’; more on this in a later entry), and my general interest (could it be called love then?) in Hebrew.
That led me to discover all of Aviv Geffen’s wonderful music and pushed me to fix up my broken Hebrew. Five years of not taking Hebrew left me with random vocabulary and the ability to read texts without vowels (assuming I knew the words, or at least the root) — not exactly the best tools to enjoy what I thought was excellent writing. I persisted with my focused study of Aviv Geffen’s lyrics, ordering his 1997 collection “Yareah Male” (Full Moon; this contained “Livkot Lecha”), looking up words, and watching YouTube videos online. I didn’t know it then, but not just my love for Aviv Geffen, but also my love for Hebrew, began to grow.
All that YouTubing (as well as some other factors I cannot recall right now) led to the discovery of other great (or at least educational) music. I made YouTube playlists with numerous artists and bands: Arik Einstein, Aviv Geffen, Ehud Banai, Eric Berman, David Broza, Mook E, Sarit Hadad, Ivri Lider, ha’Dag Nahash, Idan Raichel, Boaz Sharabi, Subliminal, Ofra Haza, and much more. I soon put a seemingly unrelated interest in computer customization/Mac Envy to use, downloading a Yahoo Widget that allowed me to stream 22 Israeli radio stations on my computer. By the end of my first year in college, I had listened to enough songs to get me caught up with Israeli culture, both before and after 2002.
This was still not enough to get me to take Hebrew, though; it wasn’t necessary for me to take in college, and I thought I could use my time more effectively. Fate (or something; bear with this common literary transition) would have it differently. We had to attend concentration advising sessions Freshman Year, and I managed to miss my Government advising session. I had to pick something else to explore. Scanning the concentrations online, I found one that I was relatively interested in: [for privacy purposes, let's call it Middle Eastern Studies (MES), which is essentially what it is]. As I talked to professors, advisers, and would-be-MES concentrators, I considered taking Hebrew my sophomore year. Summer would make me more sure of my choice.
Not having gotten a summer internship, I spent my time walking around my area. Without iPod ear buds in my ears, I listened to my surroundings: they were in Hebrew. There were tons of Israelis everywhere! I had no idea where they all came from (I had never heard so many before), but I cared about the language itself too much to find out: I could only partially understand it.
I walked in similar areas for a month, seeing how much Hebrew I could pick up. Although I had tried to resurrect my old vocabulary and build a new one, it was not very useful. If I knew the vocabulary, I could usually understand what was being said, but it was clear that I would need more help.
My summer vacation on the Cape confirmed that idea. I found myself in a house with about a dozen Israelis who had immigrated to the country (ie. Israel) in the seventies from one of the “-stan” countries (again, my memory fails me). They spoke Hebrew. I was able to understand some of it, but I did not have enough confidence to speak with the “patriarch” of the family, so to speak, in Hebrew; even a “Ma Nishma (What’s up)?” did not provoke a response from me. Not with my terrible Hebrew.
Soon enough, it was September, and I found myself taking a full-year introductory-level Hebrew course (I chose that one because I was not confident that I remembered enough Hebrew to take a higher-level). I studied during the year, spent more time listening to music (or thinking about some of Aviv Geffen’s lyrics; I was able to pick up dual-meanings used in one line, for example), and even watched movies to improve my skills. My Hebrew definitely got better, but how good was it, really, and how good could it get?
I paused to evaluate further. I would (and will) continue with Hebrew this September, but what will I do after? I had developed an interest in Yehonatan Geffen (Aviv Geffen’s famous father), his poetry, his songs, and his books (I am currently reading “Isha Yekara,” which is translated as “Lovely Lady”, in Hebrew; only having read a few very good pages, I don’t know how accurate that is yet) this year too: how would I read books in Hebrew — more than I would have access to in the libraries in my area? How would I own those books in a “grand” at-home-library? How would I watch Israeli movies without waiting for them to come out in American theaters (and even then, those are the major ones…)? How would I buy Israeli music without going online every time? I had also started writing poetry in Hebrew and learned that I love “writing” in Hebrew and would like to do it “for real” — ie. with a good vocabularly and a greater ability to express my thoughts; I even went so far as to say that, in some ideal world, I would want to be a singer-songwriter and/or writer in Hebrew (more on this in a later entry).
These line of questions seem silly as I type them. I have plenty of access to reading materials, and if I probably try really, really hard, I can pay high shipping and handling fees to purchase Israeli books I may or may not like. I can just watch major movies; not everything that comes out is worth seeing, after all; besides, I am not a huge fan of movies. I can pay shipping and handling fees for the music I want to order online. I can take Hebrew in graduate school or take some lessons at an ulpan in Israel….No wonder people don’t list such “cultural reasons” as “pull factors.”
But what if I don’t want to do that? What if I want a greater access to books? What if I have to read the book before I buy it? What if I don’t want to pay ridiculous shipping and handling fees? And isn’t it true that no matter how many Hebrew lessons I take, I won’t be able to maintain my skills unless I use the language every day?
If one thinks about it all of these concerns can be summed up as “language skills”: how will I maintain them? Beyond this shallow concern lies my “pull factor”: a love of Hebrew. I watched those movies, not because I like movies, but because I wanted to learn more Hebrew (it turns I would actually like some of these, but that’s a story for another entry). I can express my thoughts more effectively (by most measures) in English, but I wanted to write in Hebrew.
I think I want to be surrounded by Hebrew. I want to go into a store, skim through a book in Hebrew — as easily as I do in English — and then buy it. I want to go to an Aviv Geffen concert in Israel without paying a ton for airplane tickets. I want to write in Hebrew. I want to think and speak in Hebrew with ease. That is what I need Israel for. I don’t have any grand dreams. This isn’t about “living the dream” in most senses of the phrase. I just want Hebrew.
. . .
Before I create any more posts, I want to make clear that this will not obsess about Israel (it will probably only obsess about Mishpahat Geffen). I know every country, and perhaps even ideology, has its problems. This will simply be an attempt to figure out how interested I really am in moving to Israel.
I hope you will join me as a reader, commenter, and/or discussion-participant.
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