Finally had my meeting with the army to determine which jobs they are considering me for. As I believe we've already established, the army is stupid. They think that I'm going to spend two years being Mashakit (NCO) Kiss-Some-Higher-Up's Ass. They think wrong. I'm still working on getting them to move my draft date so that I can be a kick-ass paramedic. Mostly I'm infuriated, because I asked from day one to be in the medical corp, and I'm really smart, and I'm really healthy, and I can totally do it. And I'm way to good to just be some phone-answering-photocopying-faxing extraordinnaire. I'm just saying. I could be getting my degree and not moving into a flat with five other 19 year old girls. And sharing a room with one of them. And I'd be allowed to drink and have guests in my own place. And had a job where I get paid more than $90 a month (yes, that's right, a month). Also, I wouldn't have to wear that awful green all the time. Which, personally, I believe is the most important point. Also, I'm really going to miss all of my shoes.

Seriously. No more 19 year old girls running the army. I'm super serial you guys.

I had that sorting thing today for the psychotechnic diagnostician nonsense. Basically, in a nutshell, this person is responsible for the sorting cap goodness. We interview all of the incoming recruits and calculate what's known as their קב"א (kaba). This is the score received when they take the earth's mass (in grams), divide it by Pluto's gravity, minus your IQ taken to the power of the velocity of a chimp's poo when hurled at a four year old when it's 72°F with 88% humidity and low visibility. All this divided by the integral of the volume your mom's average monthly intake of gelatinous material (cm³) over the course of two years. The formula looks something like this:



Seriously, though, I have no idea what goes into that thing. No one does. Well, that's a lie. We all have some sort of an idea. But no one really knows how they get from "all the shit they make you do" to "number between 41 and 56". Except for these psychotechnic diagnostician people. And I could have been one of those people, but then they decided that I'm not cool enough. Or something. Probably they realized that I'm all dark and twisty, and I wouldn't get along with a big group of solely 18 year old girls.

At any rate, it's a job where the course looks really cool, but the job seems to be mostly boring. And mostly stationed in front of a computer. And we all know how I feel about that. But there has been some news on the combat medic front. I have someone to whom I can fax a request! So we'll see what happens. More pushing will be done when I go in on Thursday. Especially because that's when I'll be chatting with people who are more directly related to what I need to push for.

This is all terribly exciting. Seriously, I can't wait.

About two weeks ago, I had to go through a process known as, well, I don't remember the proper name, as it was long and unwieldy, but basically it's like the Hogwart's sorting cap. But instead of it reading your mind and singing a song, you have to do shit. A whole day's worth of shit, as it turns out.

We were broken down into groups of seven. And the one in charge of us gave us a little explanation that went something like this:

"The whole point of this is to see what your strengths are and where your interests lie. Some people take skills that they learn in the army, or the position that they're given, and choose to use it to turn it into a career. So one day when you're 24-25..."

At this point I lost her. I also almost lost "it". I mean, I'm 24. Well, almost. Not the point. The point is, I felt old. Really old. It didn't help when on one of the breaks I was asked what grade I was in. I was like, ummm....12th. Plus 6 years. Christ, I'm old. (PS - Do I really look like I'm 12?)

Anyway, so the first two hours were spent in front of a computer. Some of it was mildly interesting. There was a bit where you had to look at pictures of parts and the figure out how they're supposed to look when assembled, and then choose the correct one. Thank's be to the Abba for making me put together all of that Ikea furniture. Aced that bit. My favorite part was when they tested your reflexes. That involved ten minutes, a black screen, and different colored shapes flashing at you quickly. And then you had to hit the space bar whenever you saw a red square. Ten minutes. Of flashing shapes. Ten. Minutes. Aka shoot me now, ask later.

Another part involved us building a space ship. Out of straws. Whatever. My favorite part came right after. When we had to "sell" our ship. With an ad. And a jingle. To the tune of Pokemon. My exact thoughts were, "Wow, it's like high school." And then I realized it *was* high school. Because I was in a room full of 17 and 18 year olds. My next thoughts were, "WTF am I thinking? I should be with adults." Just a thought, really, since I'm still going through with it. Gslashd knows why.

There was some putting together of Tinker Toys (pwned!), role playing (which really, unfortunately, isn't nearly as kinky as it sounds), and some simulated field stuff. Mostly it was just a day spent with 18 year old girls. Which I suppose is something I should get used to. For the record, though: I didn't like 18 year old girls when I was one, and no amount of money can make me go back (unless it's to my first semester of university).

On a tangential, yet related note, I finally have some sort of inkling as to where they're thinking of placing me. And it's in human resources. As a psychotechnic diagnostician. Don't they know I don't actually like people? (OK, that's obviously a lie, but really? Ugh). The next few weeks will definitely be spent yelling at people to give me what I want.

I heart this country.

I know everyone is dying to hear about my upcoming army experience. As of right now, my enlistment date is the seventh of February. And I still have no idea where I might end up. But let's get everyone up to date about how it's been going thus far. From the beginning.

It was a dark and stormy night. By which I mean at some point mid-day in August. But the whole thing reads like a horror story, so I figured I should start it as one. I digress. At some point in August I decided that I should do my duty as a healthy citizen, and serve my time in the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces). Now let's be clear, I'm not too sure what I was thinking. And often I sort of wish I thought twice, but all in all a sound decision (you know, as far as sound decision making goes in this country). I had a friend sit down and help me write a letter that I would then fax to the army, that nebulous group of nineteen year old girls, informing them that I'm interested in donating my time.

This was followed by about a month of me making phone calls, on a fairly daily basis, to a variety of people. All of whom informed me that it was "being worked on". To this day, I'm not sure what that means. Either you want me or you don't. This isn't like some woman trying to decide if her current lover is actually worth her time (ps - he isn't). This is a numbers game. You need people to serve. I want to serve. The end. Apparently, because I'm old and my eggs are going bad, there was some uncertainty as to whether or not I'd make a worthy soldier. In fact, to this day I keep getting asked: how do you feel about spending the next two years with 18 year olds. For those of you wondering: about the same way I feel about root canals. Not a fan, but it needs to be done. Also, people here keep assuming I'm like, 12. So it might not be that big of a deal.

Anyway, eventually I got my letter informing me that I get to go on what's known as Tzav Rishon (first call-up). This awesome day went something like this: Wait in line. Get asked loads of questions. Make pee stop. Wait in line. Be given cup for pee test (oops, already peed). Spend 30 minutes drinking water like it's my job. Wait. Pee in a cup. Wait three and a half hours. With 18 year old boys discussing Dragonball-Z. Be moved into doctor's office. Put into waiting room the size of my closet. With two other girls. Wait another hour. Be yelled at by doctor for being on the phone. More waiting. Finally being examined. Go downstairs. Wait in line. Take a two hour, computerized exam. In Hebrew. Go home.

Wait a few weeks. Then get a letter with my draft date. Woo!!

Coming up next: My fun day of interviewing!

OK, so my site's been down for a while. I keep hoping I can figure out how to fix it. I'm useless, so I'm updating from here. Moving along.

The Army

Yea, I'm going in. As of right now, my draft date's February 7th. I have no idea what I'll be doing, my interviews are on Sunday to determine...well, I'm not really sure what they will determine. That's part of the issue when 19 year old girls run the army. That and having the same two meetings scheduled for the same day. At the same time. In two different locations. And then rescheduled. For the same day. And the same time. At two different locations. Asswipes. I'm actually trying to get my date moved to August, as I've decided I want to be a combat medic, and they only take in girls for combat in August and November, so we'll see what happens. Everything in this country is a frickin' work in progress. Luckily I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who uses the same vet as I do for their pet gorilla, so all's well. Or something.

What made me decide to go in? I hate people who draft dodge. And since I'm completely healthy, there's no reason I shouldn't serve. Also, I've wanted to serve since I was 15, and for a million and one (possibly stupid) reasons, I never did. So I'm going in now before I'm too old and my eggs go bad.

School

Since I'm going into the army, there is obviously no school. I probably could have squeezed in at least a semester, but I felt that was a waste of time. And also, I'm not so sure what I want to do with myself anymore. Yea, I know, there was that whole medical school thing, and maybe I'll do that. Or maybe I'll get a degree in underwater basket weaving and show all those OT school punks what's what. Everything's up in the air in this country.

Veganism

I had a brief foray into the non-eating of real food. But I've come to my senses, and decided that I will eat cheese. I love cheese. So just no meat or eggs. Animals are cute, be nice to them. Boys, on the other hand, are stupid, and we should throw rocks at them.

OK, so maybe not that massive of an update. But I feel like there's so much going on. Meh, who knows. Certainly not me. Or any of those daft nineteen year old girls that are running the army.

OK, to add my new blog to your friends page, click on the link

http://www.livejournal.com/friends/add.bml?user=shirahcashriel

Now you can read my posts on your friend's page without going to my blog!

But if you're interested in seeing my site anyway, it's www.shirahcashriel.net It's under construction at the moment, but...you know.

I got a domain name! I will be doing most of my blogging from there, even though right now it's ugly. My Livejournal will be Friends Only from now on, as it will be for more personal posts. Hopefully soon I will figure out how to create an RSS feed so that you can read it here instead of going to my new blog, if you prefer.

Eventually, though, I want to put up some of my art and photography to sell (or just show off), and whatever other interesting things come to mind.

Domain name and abilities courtesy of nomadmatan

Started making phone calls to prep class companies because my entire acceptance into school is based solely on my Psychometric (an SAT-like test) exam scores. And I've already stated how virtually impossible it is to get into medical school here. Classes start about three months before the exam date and are twice a week for 5.5 hours, totaling 11 hours a week. Two or three weeks prior to the exam (depending on the course), they start what's called "marathon classes", meaning daily meetings to make sure you know your shit. I haven't studied for anything in years; I have no idea how I'm supposed to handle private study, a full-time job, the gym, 11 hours of prep class, and a four hour art class. And also not loose my sanity.

Anyway, so the second company I speak with loves to toot its own horn. She (the representative I spoke with) explains to me that they are the absolute best, they have the most classes, the most experienced teachers, they give the most exam material for you to work with, and so what if the closest class is in Tel Aviv, it's only an hour by bus (neglecting to mention, of course, that there's also the bus ride from the center of town to wherever the class is located). She then proceeds to ask me if I've looked into any other courses. So I mention to her the only other company I'd spoken to until then, and she says, "Well, Shirah, the thing about that company is that they make excessive use of the computer, and the exam is in paper and pencil. You need scrap paper, writing utensils, you see what I mean?" Clearly, it would require too much of me to somehow use both. And from my understanding of "that other class" is that all of the work done online is in addition to 11 hours of class, private study, and various books. Basically, I found the second woman off-puttingly pushy, which I don't really like. Oh, and PS - the course is 7,600 shekels, so take that, add the bus rides to and from Tel Aviv, plus the extra time I'll have to take off from work for the commute (which could easily be 4 hours round trip), and I'm broker than broke. So I'm pretty sure I've decided at least which course I'm not going to take.

On a completely tangential note, my baby Bella is in heat, and is constantly crying. She especially relishes doing so late at night and early in the morning, when I would love to be asleep. She's getting fixed on Thursday, though, so that should put an end to her yowls of need.

Oh, and also, they're expecting it to snow here tomorrow. A) This is not what I moved to Israel for. And B) It's probably going to be about one and a half inches that will hardly stick. But my art class will still be canceled tomorrow. Go figure.

I live in a daze and I can't make it stop...

I finally got my ass over to the Student Authority to figure out the rest of my life. Apparently, my shot at getting into medical school is slim. There are only four medical schools in the country, and there are only two to three hundred first year students every school year. That's for the whole country. Everything is pretty much going to be based on my entrance exam. I need to get a perfect score, essentially. Now I'm freaked. Hopefully I'll manage to kick ass.

Anywho, in other news, I'm madly in love with Bella. I know we have to cats, but Tiger has adopted Joel, and Bella has adopted me. She sleeps with me on my pillow every night, and I wake up to her nuzzling and purring in the morning. She really makes me happy.

Other than that, work sucks. And that takes up most of my life, so...yeah.