The only thing I can coherently say about this week is that I am counting the days until I can get out of this sink-hole. From a mental sanity and ideologically functional point of view, this is where brain cells come to die. I can’t have a conversation without it turning to ideology and politics and conflict and peace and hope and despair and solutions and the lack thereof and religion and comparisons and discrimination and relations and mind-bending questions of self-identity. I don’t even know what I think anymore, and I know exactly what I think.
I want out.
This week: I went on a Breaking the Silence tour, Ameer Makhoul’s attorneys got him 7-10 years in a plea bargain, I feel bad for his daughters, a scheduled right-wing march in Umm al-Fahm led to Palestinian residents and protestors being beaten by police, ostensibly just for showing up, and Palestinian children weren’t allowed to come to Tel Aviv for a children’s film festival. And we saw a bad ass mofo on a motorcycle and black motorcycle armor and dashing good lucks with…a machine gun. And I wake up in the morning and send emails about publications and Knesset laws and update old event details on a website that no one sees.