One Week Later

Well. One week ago today I was getting off the plane, stepping back onto US soil for the first time in four months. One week ago today, I was numb, unable to feel much emotion while my peers broke down around me. One week ago, I couldn't believe what was happening.

One week ago, I couldn't fathom life in the "real world."

Now, that week has passed. And I'm still here.

How am I doing? That's a popular question around these parts at the moment.

I'm...I'm...getting by, I suppose. School is keeping me busy-ish, although I'm only taking three real classroom-based classes. We've started working on our new production, "David & Lisa", and I'm assisting on design concepts, as well as running and working with sound for the show.

I start work on the final segment of my film tomorrow, and begin the 18-week process of making it into a final piece tomorrow as well. It scares me a bit, just because this will be my grade for the entire year, and maybe just the trick to boost me into a great film and journalism school.

Both my suitcases were unpacked last night, shortly after I worked the first wedding show of the year with Dad and Tina. We hopefully will book a lot of weddings...some money would be nice sometime soon. Not a lot, but..."if I were a rich man, deebadoobadoobadoobada..."

Now don't get me wrong. I love my friends, and they're great. Nothing's really changed at school; everyone's dated everyone else, teh same old couples are still together and still too damn cute. The departments are the same with some new additions. And admittedly, aside from getting a bit skinnier and curvier, my friends haven't changed.

Myself, I'm different. Very different.

I can't yet say how, but I know that I'm a very different young man from the Aron that left Birmingham and got on a 21-seat Delta Connection jet about 4 months and 2 weeks ago. The old Aron is still there, but there's a lot of new material as well.

That's what I'm trying to deal with. And perhaps why I'm finding myself rather depressed a good amount of the time in the past week. I miss Israel. I miss the kids (although not too much). The way of life in America...I don't really like it that much. Too much concrete, too much metal, glass. Too much of everything.

Even worse, I can't get over the feeling that this is just a temporary thing. And moreover, my memories of Israel are buried somewhere in the back of my head. It feels like I never left, or even that I went a long time ago. My mind won't grasp the fact that I have to re-acclimate. So...I haven't. Yet.

I don't know how to re-acclimate, to fit back in here. I'm feeling pretty damn aimless and depressed. And it sucks. I'm in a rut that gets deeper every day.

This morning, everyone stood while the Pledge of Allegiance was said aloud. I abstained, and silently sang Hatikvah. Tomorrow morning, I get to have the car to myself for the first time. My bikes are getting ridden. It keeps me sane.

I hate this feeling. I don't know what to do with myself. Or how to process the past semester of my life, or how to apply it, or even how to tell people about my experiences.

I've decided to go talk to my school counselor, as well as some other distinguished figures, and some people that are just good friends. I want to be cheery, and go out, and have a social life.

I want to be a normal teen again.

But at the same time...I want to be my own person, and live for myself.

One week has passed, and it feels like a year.


L'Shalom,
--Aron

aronaltmark@aol.com
(205) 515-0055 [US]

Home

Shortly after celebrating the New Year, I went back to my room and finished the packing of my life into two suitcases and a carry-on. At 6am, we had breakfast (after pulling an all-nighter) and went up to the Tel to watch the sunrise from atop the Crusader castle ruins at Tzuba. At exactly 6:40am, a massive flaming orange ball rose on the horizon over Jerusalem and the hills in the foreground. This was our going-away present from the shemesh (sun), in my humble opinion, and the time soon came to head back down.



Frantically, our group finished packing, loaded all our stuff onto the bus, and before I knew what had happened, Tzuba was behind us for the last time. Next thing I knew, we arrived at Ben Gurion Int'l Airport in Tel Aviv. Then, our bags were checked and I was in possession of my boarding passes--I got two, one for my heavy camera bag carry-on that the lady didn't want to be in an overhead bin.

At security, I said my goodbyes to my madrichim, Ray, Josh, Tom, and Ariella and to Baruch Kraus, the principle. Off I went through security, and then to the gate, where I waited and had a croissant and coffee. By 11am Monday, the morning of January 1st, I was on an Israir 767 headed for JFK Int'l in New York.

Oddly enough, while most of my chaverim around me were turning into piles of mush and sobbing, I really didn't feel that much of anything. Sure, I was aware of what was happening, but it wasn't really hitting me quite yet. This feeling would carry on for a while, and is still bugging me at the moment, although not so much.

After the longest 13-hour flight of my life, we landed at JFK and said our goodbyes to all the Northeastern-ers whose parents came to get them, bringing our number to a mere 11 kids. We holed up in a Holiday Inn Express for the night, and ate pizza and commiserated with each other. Still, nothing hit me emotionally.

The morning of Tuesday the 2nd came, the night having given me very little sleep. Saying more goodbyes, and then it was my turn to get on the shuttle and leave. More bawling piles of flesh hugging and kissing...still nothing on my end.

Standing in line for Delta, all the way through security, to my gate and onto the plane, I felt simply numb. Off to Cincinnati, where my bags promptly were lost without my knowledge.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're about 15 minutes outside of Birmingham, weather is clear, in the 50s..."

It hit me. I started to bawl. The floodgates opened.

And the woman beside me turned and said "what in the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm going home, ma'am."

"Oh. That's nice."

"Yeah."

At baggage claim, I was greeted by one of my best friends, who nearly knocked me over with a hug. Shortly thereafter, my parents showed up and surprised the hell out of me. See attached photo.



Delta lost both my bags, and they arrived at 4pm this afternoon, roughly 26 hours after my plane landed in B'ham. And today was my first venture back to school in four months. On a good note, nothing's really changed there. On another note, I've changed a lot.

Last night, I had my first unkosher meal in four months--chicken and cheese enchiladas, complements of El Cazador. And after registering and seeing a few friends, as well as finding out my schedule for hte rest of the year, I got to go back to dad's office and take a short bike ride. Then, a hair cut (much needed) and some major unpacking, as well as a visit by another good friend.

I love being home.

But at the same time...I want to be back in Israel.

Tomorrow is my first real day of school. We'll see how that goes.

And like I said previously in an entry:


"This isn't the end of the journey; it's only the beginning of the rollercoaster."


Lila Tov,

--Aron

aronaltmark@aol.com
(205) 515-0055