The Bloodgates of Hell

I am taking my leave *curtsey*

I do not feel like writing. I do not feel like reading. I do not feel like doing much of anything, so I suppose I'll just carry on writing reports for school and studying as well as I can.

The 27th was as expected, which left me thinking the worst was past and it had been worse to fear it than the actual day itself. Here, experienced, gone, goody. but no. the 28th caught me by thr throat in a manner that scared me. The Corpse Bride was the trigger I suppose but on the 27th i had a nightmare, i was in a space station w the furry ones and there was an earthquake and the whole station turned on its axis - I once dreamt I was in a bombing and itb was synaesthesic, there was this profound lavender-coloured feeling, most nauseating, this was close to it. After it was over i knew there was no food for the pets and i was in despair over how to feed or carry them. and then something i cannot remember and then a rebel Jewish faction was shooting and killing my friends. psyche knows no bounds. That day in the evening i went to see the Corpse Bride, it's so beautiful as to rob one of one's breath at times. that would have been enough but there was also the beginning and the ending, and if you read me and have seen it, yoiu'll know. plus i am obsessing abt Laika, even bfr the movie started i was thibnking abt poor poor Laika, hhow she must have felt so alone and terrified and how she must have cried all alone in her little space shuttle, millions of years away from any other living being, and slowly starved and died of thirst, all alone up there, not even knowing why it was happening, it breaks my heart so much i become paralysed. laika figures in my thoughts a lot these days and while replying to an email from Manuela (Thin Pink Line) it clicked, Laika and the space station in my dream, don't even need my psychiatrist for this, plus the nightmares every night now, the phobic thoughts i'm having while driving, only while driving, as in "i need to change lanes, i'm going to die" etc, several times a minute, very disturbing and upsetting but not really bcs i know what's causing this, it's like post-traumatic stress disorder minus the trauma of sorts, so,

all this to say i sometimes click on my blog and am actually surprised not to see a new post, i've discussed how well i do this schizoid thingy so no need to delve deeply, but if I do see one it won't be the one I'd like to see, i need to stop this blogging thing bcs everything is driving me mad now and i feel depleted and tonight I'll stand up in the synagogue and say Kaddish for my best friend and i don't see how i will do that in a way that will honour him if i burst into tears which i am praying won't happen but who the hell knows these days, and i don't feel like writing, or reading, or anything really. I know I'll be back, much like the plague, we can all depend on both of us, could even be tomorrow for all I know but for now i need to be away from this for a while, yes?

*curtsey* and Portie smooches all around. I hope 2006 is a kind year for all of us.

The way in which we're fortunate

LUIS, se leres isto manda-me um mail por favor, lionessblog@gmail.com

Do you know, I have been ensconced in my news-less fortress for quite a while now, to avoid Tsunami references. I forced myself to stay up really late last night hoping it'd make me sleep longer and make the day shorter. Ha. Didn't. I slept only a few hours and have been fumbling w the computer not knowing quite what to do.

Then I turned on the telly.

See, all of a sudden I wanted to see what kind of ceremony was held for my Tig, and all those thousands who died w him. I wanted to see it, since I could not be there. (I close my eyes every time they show images of the Wave, as I0've read somewhere In life pain is unavoidable, suffering is optional). What I saw was good. Proper, I suppose. Dignified. It’s horrifying to look at the ground he walked on but also heartwarming. He was surely having the best time, lizzarding in the sun. If we are going to die anyway, then enjoying it till the very last minute is surely a Very Good Thing. They are now showing images of Khao Lak, where he was staying, where we think he was killed. I’ve seen relatives and friends of the victims. Wish they blogged. There is a brand new Tsunami warning system in Indonesia. Do you know how many lives this could, probably will, save? Uzi would be so pleased. Now they reporter is being daft and questioning whether it’s not too soon to do it, whether this may not be construed as being abt rebuilding everything for tourism rather than those who died. I have been avoiding the news everywhere especially now but in general I stay away fropm them, especially on the telly. One hour and a half of misery, and misery portrayed in such a manner as above, is both choosing and taking advantage of suffering and I refuse to.

It has now been exactly a year. As much as a part of me wants the sky to turn black etc – kindly refer tp previous post – I know it is a good thing it doesn’t. I know that life goes on and, more importantly, I know it must go on or else we are killing those we loved again, and this time deliberately. They are dead, we are not, and us remaining standing requires rituals that provide us w the foundations for said verticality. One of those is acknowledging their deaths on the day of their deaths. The exact day, yes. More so when it’s been exactly one year only. So no, it’s not too soon. Surprisingly, the timing is exactly right.

I was talking to my friend G. last night. She said something that warmed my soul, she said thanks to me people will probably remember Uzi long after they’ve forgotten abt me. This has been playing on repeat inside my head. Yesterday something else made me smile. I’d forgotten all abt my Guest Map and then I remembered and clicked on it. Some people delurked there. And that’s why I wanted to tell you, again, there will be times you will be confronted w someone else’s pain and you may not know what to do or say. You may feel it will never be right, never be enough so why even attempt it. But see, those lurkers delurking weren’t even trying to make me feel better and yet they did. You never know. And telling someone you’re sorry they’re hurting and that you’re thinking abt them could never be wrong, no matter how inadequate you may find it. And talking abt those who died is actually a relief to us, bcs people so often avoid mentioning them in case they hurt us. You could never remind us of something we never forget. That you don’t forget either is cause for joy, I hope you see that. Do not underestimate the power of small things. Do not underestimate small words, small gestures.

And why are we fortunate? There was a woman in Thailand holding the pictures of her two children and showing them to people who might have seen them and know where they are. Bcs they are still alive, see. She simply knows they are still alive. And then, with a schizophrenia so familiar it made me shiver, she added that if no one comes forward within the next month with news she will accept their death. But for the grace of God that could be me. That would be me. Remember my February posts where I was still loudly banging the drums of hope, lalalaIcan’thearyou? There are close to 40.000 buried in mass graves, close to 40.000 who never were identified, close to 40.000 who never came home to rest. Uzi is home on the kibbutz. Uzi is home, we can go visit. Or not. But he is home, he is right there, he was returned to us. The alternative is too horrific to contemplate. I may still struggle to bring home the drowned gorillas of my dreams but when I wake up the nightmare stops. Reality is its own nightmare of sorts but this one I can live with. Not having had his body found and returned to us – I cannot even imagine what that must feel like. Must feel like insanity, and this sometimes feels too much like it already. Those poor people.

A few of you asked abt Tzedakah, whether you could donate something to a charity of my choice in his name. I couldn't think of this bfr but I think it is time now. I think he’d like that. Magen David Adom is an organisation that provides first-aid training and medical aid, here:

1. Providing auxiliary service to Israel's Army Medical Corps in wartime, including providing emergency medical care for the wounded and war refugees
2. Providing civilian emergency, medical, and first-aid services and temporary shelter in emergency situations
3. Maintaining a blood bank for civilian use.

This is the site in Israel, the US, in the UK.

But it doesn’t have to be money, it doesn’t even have to be Magen David Adom. I’d love it if those of you willing to donated blood and enrolled in the bone marrow program closest to you, people always forget abt the bone marrow. There never is enough blood in hospitals, never ever. And every year so many people, so many of them children, die bcs no matches were found even though there are billions of us on this planet. Nowadays if you turn out to be a match all they do is draw blood to get your cells, it’s no longer painful. You could be saving someone’s life. You could be saving a friend’s or a relative’s life. I have psoriasis and my most personal grievance is that I cannot do it, my blood is so filled w inflammatory blood cells it’d do no one any good to receive it. If you do do it, I'd love to hear abt it, anonymously or not. I know Tzedaka should be nameless but this is abt Uzi and I think of it as donating a nice, visible plaque. His full name is Uzi Saghi, btw.

And if you’ve read Silwormks you will not be surprised if I tell you that I will now go out and buy a book for him. And then I will come back and watch the Gilmore Girls, which always makes even my innards smile. And I will lie on the sofa and will his death to move over a bit so I can see his life better. And I will cry and I will sob and I will smile and I will gag and will be headbutted and scent-marked by little furry heads, it’s been going on for a while now. But I will go out and buy a book for my Tig and I will read it and I will bloody enjoy it, rest assured.

[Boyfriend’s just rang me and told me to go and get the book, yes, it would be his gift. And could I buy something for him as well? I asked if he meant something for Uzi as well. He said buy it as though it’s for him, only you give it to me. And then we can open them after lighting the 2nd candle tonight, did I see. And I do see. Uzi touches even those who never met him, which didn't surprise her at all.]

Yahrzeit

My friend V. is amazing and is arranging things so we can have a Yahrzeit ceremony for Uzi at our synagogue. That is actually what I needed but I couldn’t bear to do it myself. The media references have started so no more radio for me while driving - no more much of anything related really till this is all over. Thank you all who’ve been writing and commenting to say you’re thinking of us now, it’s lovely to hear. I know Uzi won’t be forgotten but it’s lovely to hear how much you’ve made him yours as well. I’ve finally written something for his memorial next Friday:

In the very beginning of our relationship my boyfriend won me over completely when he told me I want you to know you can always talk to me abt Uzi, I understand and I'd never be jealous. And only you could make me start writing something for an ex-boyfriend by quoting the current one, you two'd get along so brilliantly - though what I remember most abt you and I is that you still are my best friend. Today, maybe as Lila stands here reading this, we will be lighting a Yahrzeit candle for you at our synagogue. I don’t know what happens after death so I’ve decided you are sitting outside with Yaniv, laughing, drinking beer, greeting passersby with “alan”. I am so sorry that I never found you among the pictures of the victims, I would have liked to help bring you home sooner, that much I could have done. Some people were horrified that I could look at them for a week, others were surprised I flew to Israel for 4 days only to be at your funeral. Some people, apparently, have never had someone like you in their lives. Haval. I would do anything for you in life, how could I not say goodbye to you in person? This past year has been absolutely horrendous and I very often still don’t know what to do with myself. I still sometimes dream I am underwater saving lives. It’s usually gorillas I save, for some reason. Or at least I recover their bodies so they can be returned to their families. (I know you would find this gorilla obsession hysterically funny. Actually, I hope you were around when Lila, Zohar and I made all those terribly morbid jokes, you’d love them. God I miss your inappropriate sense of humour.) But see, I may not know what happens after death but I know what happens after your death. I promised a year ago that I will have as good a life as I possibly can, not only bcs you would hate it if your death broke us, but bcs this is my way of thanking Life, The Universe and Everything for having given me you. I still think that your being dead is obscene and we shouldn’t be standing here, the earth should stand still and the sky should turn black and dragons should come screaming to wage war against all worlds bcs you cannot be dead. So I think about you, I miss you, I am sad every day, but every day I am more grateful than sad. How could I not be?

I used to have a cat that I brought w me from Eilat. He’d been very ill, lost an eye, had a broken pelvis. He loved to chase butterflies on the lawn. He was killed by 2 kibbutz dogs and after that, whenever we saw a butterfly we decided it was his way of saying “hallo”. A few months ago I had a particularly bad day and didn’t see how I would survive any of this with my sanity intact. I asked you to please find a way to let me know that you were all right, that you weren’t too sad you were dead, that you weren’t too worried abt us. I barely slept and when I got up, very early in the morning, I went into the living-room and found a huge yellow butterfly trapped between the window and the netting. Just like that. There was no way really it could have got there but there it was, and it was absolutely perfect, like a headbutting from a silky cat. I have a place where I write things and people can comment. I have been obsessively writing abt you, and people from all over the world have prayed for your life and think of you now when they see butterflies. They even send me reports and pictures from their gardens. Recently someone who never met you (or me) wrote something amazing, something which encapsulates it brilliantly, something I know many of them feel: Everyone who reads you misses Uzi. And this too is absolutely perfect, the sort of beautiful only you could inspire. You are remembered.

You are still my Tig, I am still Pip, only the rules have changed a bit.

[This still reminds me of him and forever will, 2nd link in this post. And Lamb's Angel Gabriel.]

Veronica Mars, S2E10

CRASH! - (n) Bleak, cartilaginous sound made by a show jumping the shark.

Sad.

[PS - No one will ever convince me that Veronica could actually find rectangular, wooden Duncan cool or sexy after having a go at Logan, whom I found ugly at first and now find rather tasty. So there. Plus, Duncan's real name is Teddy. Teddy. I ask you.]

And a Salivating Hannukah for you lot as well

HALLO! Good God but the man was lekker! Found via Lorem Ipsum, may she be rewarded forever and ever and afterwards as well, AMEN.

The Big Wave That Ate My Best Friend, now in a theatre near you

So it begins.

Remember my very healthy dislike for all things Decemberish? And remember my countdown thingy? We have officially entered Tsunami season.

I've just received an email from Lila. I have been dreading receiving such an email bcs it was rather obvious that it would, and now I have and now I - .

Kibbutz memorial service on the 23, I am to write something pleasepleaseplease. Again. Let's all get together and collectively remember how very and horribly dead he is. Last time, at least, we still had hope. Of sorts. I don't think this will be very good. In fact, I have just caught myself rocking back and forth. I know I will do it, I know I'll survive it but I don't see how I will manage to write something even half meaningful. I wanted to, I wanted it to honour him. I don't suppose I can have Lila hand out the link to my Uzi category, though that would be fine by me. Peruse the hundreds of posts or something and pick what best suits your mood.

You want to know what's really killing me? After Uzi was killed everyone pretty much was told or found out, one way or the other. Mostly not by me, I don't think. I vaguely remember having my Tweedle ring people for me and spread the joy. I don't really remember a lot abt those months, my psyche has served me well. back in the Summer I went for a coffee w a friend of mine. Not exactly a friend, maybe. We once had boyfriends who were brothers and spent a lot of time together. I really like her and I know she likes me as well but we have never got really, really close. I mean, she's not the one I call when the sky falls on my head but I very much want for her to have a fabulous life and enjoy her loads, and I know it's the same for her. So we were sitting at an outside cafe and I realised she didn't know. I certainly didn't know how to tell her, it's been months since I'd last been in that position. Above all, I didn't want to tell her. To her Uzi was still very much alive and gorgeous and a part of me wanted it to remain so. But something had happened to me a few weeks earlier and that was a horror of such epic proportions I knew I didn't want to risk it happening again. See, I wrote a post abt going to the beach house w my Tweedle for a few days, remember that? While we were there we went for coffee w a former professor of mine, w whom I became friends and Tweedle got to know as well. We were sitting there, enjoying our drinks (going for a coffee might involve all drinks but coffee here, so it was Caipirinhas for them and Coke for me) and all of a sudden he asked How is our Israeli friend? I couldn't think of whom he meant and thought he might mean some Criminologist in israel, I remember trying to look someone up for him the first time I was there. But I was wary and so I said What do you mean? And he said That Israeli boyfriend of yours that I met, he is amazing, remember you came round to see me, how is he doing? And I simply sat there, horror-struck and couldn't even breathe and I remember Tweedle looking panicked and him asking What's wrong and later she told me I looked as though I'd been punched in the gut and went white but my memory of it is slightly worse than that and I sort of remember trying hard not to burst into tears while Tweedle told him and he must have been shocked and said the things you say at a moment like that but that's the last bit of our reunion I remember. My psyche, it serves me well.

So I didn't want to risk that happening again, over coffee (coke and juice), again, and so I said You remember Uzi, right? And she said, yes, of course she did. And I said Well, he was in Thailand in December and she looked at me blankly and the sky did fall on my head then bcs see, too many months had gone by and even though to me the Tsunami was a daily experience it no longer was for the rest of the world, and that little sentence had always served me well, people immediately knew what had happened but it was no longer so and I was going to be forced to spell it out so I sat there and started crying and said He was in Thailand in December when the.. When the... and then, I think mostly bcs of my tears she finally understood and her eyer were all of a sudden very shiny, which didn't help me at all, and I also don't remember how the rest of it went.

People have forgotten, people will forget even more. When Yaniv died the first Jahrzeit loads of people showed up at his Mum's. The next year there were a bit less. And so on and so forth. I don't want that to happen to my Tig, I want the world to stand still, the earth to abruptly come to a screeching halt with objects flying off shelves and dragons flying in to wage war bcs it IS the end of the world, it is, IT IS.

I don't see how I will find the words.

And now, bcs it's Wednesday, I must go and be trampled further by some big animal, or worse, be forced to inject some dog intraperitoneally. I'm in the mood for a fight so I hope it's the bloody donkey and Donkey, be warned I'll be the one doing the kicking today.

------------------------------------------------

UPDATE: it was the cow, the cow that usually is meek and patient, the cow that today started kicking the manger and us the moment we walked in the box, the cow that decided this morning she'd had enough of being pierced by incompetent hands. There was ass-kicking done, as Cow literally kicked my colleague in the buttocks. It hurt. Cow also slapped me with her ears a few times, also not pleasant, and managed to slap my cornea with the ear plastic tag, which was even less pleasant and made me go blind for a short while. The highlight of an otherwise lovely day was when Cow, huge Cow, all 650 kg/1400 lb of Cow, stood on my foot, for many seconds, while I screamed for my colleagues to move her. When they did she lifted the other foot thereby increasing the pressure some more. I am now limping and foot hurts like the bloody hell, taking off galoches and putting on regular shoes was memorable. One colleague remarked I looked as if I were in labour but that was a tad exaggerated. With a bit of luck nothing was broken and I can avoid the ER. So I am icing my raised foot (frozen peas work the best, FYI, bcs they adapt to the shape of whetever it is you need to ice, much better than icecubes) which is lovely bcs really, this heat wave was driving me bonkers, and Voltaren was duly swallowed. But I won bcs I did manage to engorgitate the vein, at the expenses of a formerly healthy left wrist, and inject her jugular and the needle stayed put and then I screwed in the syringe and did it and so did my 2 colleagues, and we are proud bcs the cow kicked and rolled and shook and tried to horn us and moved the whole bloody time and us with it and one of my collegues is huge and tall and really really strong and he was seating too from the exertion, and the teacher later told all of us she isn't worried abt us, most big animals we will come across in the future will not have any behavioural vices and will have had very little contact w humans so by the time they realise what is happening it should all be over, from her lips to God's ears, see, we are the lasts shift, by Wednesday afternoon the animals have been inaptly poked and pierced till kingdom come, they are fed up and sore and frankly, I'd be too, no ill feelings, I think it's only fair. And it only took us an hour and a half and some monor injuries! Cannot wait for the stable exam.

Now with pink hair.

Of sorts.

Pinkish.

Was fed up with my hair, see, and walking past that aisle...

Oy.

Bad idea. Bad, bad, BAD idea.

Lurkers, come closer

I have just taken this test that I found over at Beth's, who's sadly still busy reacquainting herself w her commode. Beth, Beth, quit drinking so much. Oy.

The test, it characterises one's humour. I must say I am flabbergasted, how could they have described me so very well? It's a bit eery really, judge for yourself, underlining's mine:

The Ham
Your humor style:CLEAN SPONTANEOUS LIGHT Your style's goofy, innocent and feel-good. Perfect for parties and for the dads who chaperone them. You can actually get away with corny jokes, and I bet your sense of humor is a guilty pleasure for your friends. People of your type are often the most approachable and popular people in their circle. Your simple & silly good-naturedness is immediately recognizable, and it sets you apart in this sarcastic world.

Aren't you proud of silly-silly, simple me? My sense of humour sets me apart in this nasty sarcastic world! Bad sarcasm, bad bad bad. I frown upon it, rearranging my cute, clean features in an appropriate manner. I also skip when I walk.

Now that I was reminded of my bitchiness, let's tackle lurkers shall we. The laws of average say I have some. Udge has recently intimated them to come out and amazingly, they did! That's bcs they are good lurkers. I know people lurk for a reason and, annoying as it is, I understand. *sigh* I do it as well. Lurkers wouldn't be called lurkers if they commented, now would they. So I'll tell you why I lurk where I lurk and MAY I ENCOURAGE YOU TO DO THE SAME? I come bearing long swords. [They are Portuguese swords. Bcs I am Portuguese, not Israeli. I was born here, my soul was born in Israel, see? Some of you get confused.]

I read some IF blogs where I hardly or never comment. Infertility blogs are fraught w perils and it is very easy to say the wrong thing without realising it. On any site, if I leave a few comments and they are not acknowledged in any way whatsoever, I assume it's the blogger's polite way of saying I couldn't care less abt what you have to say, you funny Portie person, go away. And I obligingly re-lurk again. I also lurk at sites that have far too many commenters bcs really, after 276 people have said their bit, what could I possibly add? The pleasure of seeing my name on the list as well? On a personal level, I will never be able to really understand the thrill of being first (First! First!) and I never tend to worship said bloggers, so some of the mystique is lost on me. There are also some blogs that I read only infrequently and then I feel stupid abt leaving a comment but maybe what's stupid is me thinking that? I wouldn't be offended it they did that here so I don't know what I'm talking abt anymore. Finally, there's Paul and Dale, though that's not really lurking. And Paul is blogging again and I barely know what's happening w his life, and I don't know how Dale is doing either bcs well, I've talked abt this here. Their writing wraps itself around some heart branches and they make me feel things. For almost a year now I have been avoiding them and then going back to read them in vast gulps on a regular basis. I wish it would stop being so, I wish I could stop myself, I am crazy abt them and miss them terribly, I went in now to get their site domains and kept my eyes on the URL the wole time lest an exquisite sentence caught me unawares. I feel terribly guilty for doing this bcs it sounds absolutely inane even to me but I'd much rather live with the guilt that follows (believe me, it's no minor guilt, and even more so bcs they are unfailingly supportive and the whole thing makes me feel like an absolutely rotten person) than with the longing they make me feel for Uzi. Once again, this is my public apology to you.

[Detour. I very rarely receive emails asking for me to link to the person. Blog etiquette is a bit inconsistent yet but common sense and manners aren't, not really. It might be useful to read this bfr writing to me. And if you'd like for more people to read you and become so fond of you that they link to you, er, leave comments yourself. You know, participate. Work a little. Bcs an email coming from a stranger saying Hi, I love your blog even though I couldn't be bothered to even comment, I have a new one, could you link to me will be treated as spam bcs as far as I can tell, that's what it is.]

I have an inkling that I may have neglected to reply to some new commenters in the past. Even bfr I started replying to comments individually I always answered those bcs, when you think abt it, it's not an easy step is it? Back when I started I found a blog that pretty much begged for comments, i.e., everyone! Comment! Love! Comments! Everyone! Welcome! Well then. To my great surprise I found that the stupid cow was leaving comments after mine saying things like Why is the Lioness stalking me? Please make her stop! WELL THEN. I deleted them and wholeheartedly hope the lady has seen fit to start intensive therapy. I have never went back to check. Anyway, if I did the same to you I'm sorry, I truly am, sometimes life gets to be a bit too much in the Pride revier and some fall through the loops. I also lost my bookmarks when my hard drive crashed and have been unable to find some people again. BCS THEY DON'T LEAVE COMMENTS. That's what happens. Sadness could be spared.

So. Lurkers. If you are one, could you tell me why and where from? How did you end up here? Are you a lurker bcs I make you uncomfortable? [Seriously, happens so often IRL I wouldn't be surprised if I'd managed to have the same effect on the ether.] Are you a lurker bcs you enjoy reading but, astonishingly, are left w nothing to say? Are you a lurker bcs you think I couldn't care less abt your comment? (Here you'd be wrong) For the love of God just tell me, I'm too curious for my own good, I may sprain a neuron trying to understand this. You may do it anonymously, of course. (Well not of course but I've turned anon commenting back on) I really, really, REALLY would love to know. I didn't feel much like celebrating my bloggiversary last August, consider this my wish list. Also, both my show and Loverboy's were aired. We were mortified, him for no reason whatsoever, hw was fine and looked edible. One colleague of mine actually only recognised me when I started talking. But that might just be a good thing. There could be pics but NOT UNTIL WE HAVE SOME ANSWERS. The Pride whole-heartedly embraces emotional blackmail (and it should be effective as well bcs people who never comment can just not comment again and we'll see who wins). And remember the swords.

--------------------------

UPDATE: Ed's comment's reminded me of something. I've been doing that a lot as well, staring at the comment window blankly and not being able to pull forth any words. Lioness Was Here seems a bit daft. I am not deliberately trying to lurk, am just struck dumb more often than not. So chances are, if someone from Portugal has been stopping by, it was me. Then again, there are loads - and I mean LOADS - of Portie bloggers and they do get around so it's probably not all me, maybe you're making some new friends. Also, there are people who link to me and have never commented - why? WHY? Now I don't feel comfortable commenting there either. See how silly it all is? Also, there is someone in Munich who's been here for 17h, 37 min and 22 secs. A slow reader, perhaps? German person, YOU LEFT A WINDOW OPEN! Close it off bfr it bursts into flames. (And introduce yourself, das waere schoen, gell?)(Blah ohne Umlaut sieht Deutsch total bescheuert aus!) And you in New Haven (which is gorgeous, I loved it!) of the 7 h, who are you? Another window left open? (Happens to me as well so I never get my knickers in an uproar imagining it's all love) And you, you in JERUSALEM, the place where everything starts and ends, who are you and why aren't you saying anything?? Stam b'yerushalayim, kacha. NU?? So not pleased with this. *slowly walks away w head down, shoulders shaking w sobs*