First we just were.
than we became students. we enjoyed things that are well designed, loved to travel, ate out. not exactly like our parents.
without knowing it we became yuppies.
when we got married, we became dinks, but just for a short while, as Carmel, gift of the gods, entered out lives.
another inspirational child, yuval, startups, MBA, Gil enters our lives and all of a sudden, i am a metrosexual. overworked, over traveled, under-performing i had to stop and think if i am becoming a retrosexual. brought back teenage memories of real men don’t eat quiche. hardly having the time to ponder, i had thoughts of ubersexual, asexual, middlesexual, mixsexual, undersexual, but concluded that
Emotions, in my experience aren’t covered by single words. I don’t believe in “sadness,” “joy,” or “regret.” … I’d like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic traincar constructions like, say, “the happiness that attends disaster.” Or: “the disappointment of sleeping with one’s fantasy.” … I’d like to have a word for “the sadness inspired by failing restaurants” as well as for “the excitement of getting a room with a minibar.” (Eugenides, middlesex)
unshaven, long hair or just a pony tail, i was flirting with the idea of having a new one word lable to classify me, or not.
arrived in new haven, thinking i am in paradise but trying to understand the point of view of the poor of the world. after my first glass of champagne, i realized that Champagne Socialist may fit, but will not due. too pejorative.
but it is time to go back home. need to decide if we are buying stuff or not to take back to isarel. (if we wait a few weeks, we will be in consumer heaven as markets are crumbling and retailers are pressed). sat down with limor right after our mutual architecture class. time for decisions! are we bourgeois or bohemian? was the discussion.
and so, now we are BoBos.