Today I start

Imagine me today: all five foot one and three quarters of me... carrying on in one hand my oversize red purse, my work bag full of notebooks, about six bags of groceries cutting off my circulation at mid forearm and in the other hand a package of toilet paper the size of a Little Person, ear phone wire tangled weaving through the whole mess, forcing me to slant my head in a perpetually questioning (but only slightly painful) angle... yes that was me about an hour ago. When my after work yoga class got canceled I decided to brave the market in rush hour, without my plaid granny cart.

Anyway, as I was wobbling to the bus stop with all this stuff, it occurred to me that it hadn't occurred to me to be embarrassed about my ridiculous situation, not even about the Little Person-sized toilet paper. Certainly three years ago I would have found this wobble of shame disheartening, in fact, if someone had showed a photograph of my current self to made-up, blond, manicured Anna of days of yore, she would have laughed in disbelief (and then perhaps applied to law school to insure a change in destiny?). And so, as I near my three year Aliyah anniversary I once again have to ask myself the question which I have been asked by the confused left side of my brain (along with many a Russian taxi driver), “why did you leave clean, organized, Chicago for this Middle Eastern Mayhem?”

So yes there is ideology, Zionism, maybe even a little bit of religion... but let's put all of that aside and take a more psychological approach... I mean let's be honest. Everyone makes Aliyah for similar ideological reasons, it's the underlying personal reasons that are much juicier (and probably much more entertaining to read about). So I will hold my breath, close my eyes, pretend to be anonymous and admit to the e-world that my move here was largely fueled by a deeply rooted Russian/Ukrainian/Jewish/American/Highland Parker identity crisis. Some naïve voice in my head (or was it the Shlichim?) told me that moving to Israel would fix the problem instead of add to it... silly, silly naïve (or misleading and manipulative) voice!

The major shock to my system of beliefs and obsessions came when after about a year in Israel my then new fiance and I were in London visiting a fabulous girlfriend of mine, let's call her P, who had followed in my trans migrant footsteps having moved from the Soviet Union to the States as a child and then immigrating to England in her 20's. In very characteristically Anka fashion, as soon as I got off the plane, emotional baggage in hand, I asked her “So how do you feel?? Now you have been here for a year, do you feel European or American or just Jewish? What is your identity?”

P cocked her pristine porcelain head, her brown pony tail swinging delightfully. She furrowed her perfectly arched eyebrows, and gave me the greatest answer ever of all time. She said, “um... I have a job.” And that was it. All my years of searching for meaning and belonging, all my years painting little immigrant girls with big bows, all the “is Jewish a nationality” conversations dismissed so simply and so brilliantly. I thought to myself, maybe that is my problem... too much time on identity, not enough on life (or career for that matter). And yet... career and money and all that stuff which I ignore to the great regret of the left side of my brain (and also my parents) just doesn't excite me... so today I start this blog with the intention of figuring it all out once and for all...sort of like all those little immigrant girls I painted, only with more letters and less colors. Wish me luck!

Also, I accept all advice and comments (except for grammatical corrections, those are annoying) with smiles and appreciation.