May 26th, 2008
When my mom called and told me that Sherrard had died, it didn't sink in. It still hasn't. But what did bother me was that I couldn't for the life of me remember his last name. When I got on the Birthright bus yesterday, I put on "I'll be Missing You," by Puff Daddy and Faith Evans, and thought about him and about Arthur (Arthur is now inherent in that song for me 'cause it played randomly on repeat three times the night he died), and it just came to me: Franklin. I felt the click. I just let myself go, completely submerged in the song. I think that's what I mean about not letting my thoughts interrupt my soul. If I just follow my gut, I'll do all right.
I'm feeling a lot better and with my new health is a new readiness to be here. When I was queasy with food poisoning I was so completely ready to go home, and I still want to but I'm much more prepared to be here, enjoy myself, and see it through. It's strange because even thought we've seen signs of the conflict, it still feels very unreal and removed. Maybe that's why so many people on the trip seem to feel so pro-Israeli without any qualms. Which is why I'm both excited and terrified for Birthright Unplugged. Not terrified in terms of safety, but because it will force me to open my eyes and look at things that I think I already see.
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