Oh my God!
Yes, that's right, in a world gone mad with text-messaging, I can't help but spell it out for you:
http://www.freerice.com
Please visit this site, test your vocabulary, get smarter and save the world, one word at a time.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Time Heals All Mother's Day Memories
It's been two weeks since I yelled at my mother on Mother's Day.
But you know what they say, "time heals all wounds."
And "This too shall pass."
And my personal favourite "Everyone you've ever cared about and you yourself are going to die"
Okay, I made that last one up, but I still think it could enter the fray of comments we use to calm distressed folks down. I don't think it would talk them off the ledge, so some personal powers of discernment would be required.
Sometimes I think of a friend who used to say "I'm over it," almost immediately after something had upset them and I would think "You sound like you've convinced yourself, well done." Because that's what this world really needs, more deluded people.
Four years ago, my father left in an ambulance and never went back. That year, I yelled at my mother on Mother's Day and her birthday, which happens to fall in mid-December. Then I found myself bawling at my counselor's office about what a terrible person I was, yelling at a woman who's been struggling with a mental illness since before I was born, and if that wasn't enough, I was yelling at her on Mother's Day! On her Birthday!
Things like "This is all your fault!" and "You're so crazy you drive everyone else around you crazy!" and "I left home to get as far away from you as possible, understand? You're toxic and dangerous and that's why dad left too!"
Have you seen these things written on any Hallmark cards? I thought not. I know I would be better suited to coming up with names for nail polish than working in the greeting card industry. I think it even said that on my grade 8 Future Careers Evaluation.
This is what my counselor said "You still have Christmas. You could make it a 3 out of 3."
I thought that was pretty good, as a reply. It made me laugh.
I can't remember now what I said to her that Christmas, but I'm quite sure I didn't yell at her. She didn't tell me she was living off her preserved peaches for a week because she had spent all the money the bank had given her. (She insisted they never gave her the money)
All I know is, four years later, it's still a struggle to not lose my patience. Last week I realised I need to get off the phone much sooner. Still, that's hard to do when someone is telling you, volume on high, every single thing they've told you a million times and they are still wanting you to do something about:
"Give me your phone number. Where is your father? Why do I have to stay here and you there and him where he is? This is wrong. All our problems started when you left home. Who told you to go? Who? Won't you give me your phone number so I can call you? I'm so alone all the time. I'm alone and I'm scared and I'm too much by myself."
So I say "I'm only going to say this another 50 million times: no, no and no AND I'm sorry I can't do anything about that, ma. You exhaust me."
Truth is I exhaust me, and it's been a long time that I can't see another way of coping but just listening and fulfilling my duty as a daughter, as one very wise doctor advised me to do, long-distance. It's true what they say - listening is a skill. It's an art. It's one I'm trying to master. And she's the hardest person in my world to listen to, so I'll keep practicing.
Every Sunday is another opportunity.
After all, Mother's Day comes but once a year.
Thank the Good Ganesh for that.
Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha
But you know what they say, "time heals all wounds."
And "This too shall pass."
And my personal favourite "Everyone you've ever cared about and you yourself are going to die"
Okay, I made that last one up, but I still think it could enter the fray of comments we use to calm distressed folks down. I don't think it would talk them off the ledge, so some personal powers of discernment would be required.
Sometimes I think of a friend who used to say "I'm over it," almost immediately after something had upset them and I would think "You sound like you've convinced yourself, well done." Because that's what this world really needs, more deluded people.
Four years ago, my father left in an ambulance and never went back. That year, I yelled at my mother on Mother's Day and her birthday, which happens to fall in mid-December. Then I found myself bawling at my counselor's office about what a terrible person I was, yelling at a woman who's been struggling with a mental illness since before I was born, and if that wasn't enough, I was yelling at her on Mother's Day! On her Birthday!
Things like "This is all your fault!" and "You're so crazy you drive everyone else around you crazy!" and "I left home to get as far away from you as possible, understand? You're toxic and dangerous and that's why dad left too!"
Have you seen these things written on any Hallmark cards? I thought not. I know I would be better suited to coming up with names for nail polish than working in the greeting card industry. I think it even said that on my grade 8 Future Careers Evaluation.
This is what my counselor said "You still have Christmas. You could make it a 3 out of 3."
I thought that was pretty good, as a reply. It made me laugh.
I can't remember now what I said to her that Christmas, but I'm quite sure I didn't yell at her. She didn't tell me she was living off her preserved peaches for a week because she had spent all the money the bank had given her. (She insisted they never gave her the money)
All I know is, four years later, it's still a struggle to not lose my patience. Last week I realised I need to get off the phone much sooner. Still, that's hard to do when someone is telling you, volume on high, every single thing they've told you a million times and they are still wanting you to do something about:
"Give me your phone number. Where is your father? Why do I have to stay here and you there and him where he is? This is wrong. All our problems started when you left home. Who told you to go? Who? Won't you give me your phone number so I can call you? I'm so alone all the time. I'm alone and I'm scared and I'm too much by myself."
So I say "I'm only going to say this another 50 million times: no, no and no AND I'm sorry I can't do anything about that, ma. You exhaust me."
Truth is I exhaust me, and it's been a long time that I can't see another way of coping but just listening and fulfilling my duty as a daughter, as one very wise doctor advised me to do, long-distance. It's true what they say - listening is a skill. It's an art. It's one I'm trying to master. And she's the hardest person in my world to listen to, so I'll keep practicing.
Every Sunday is another opportunity.
After all, Mother's Day comes but once a year.
Thank the Good Ganesh for that.
Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha
Friday, May 16, 2008
I Made to the Hot of the World, Ma!
In the spirit of the just past Mental Health Awareness Week and Mother's Day - an opportunity for a double-whammy few words from our sponsor - since I thought perhaps you were all wondering how my mom handled my global travel. I started this in India, so I'll finish it now. That would be my anxiety-ridden, self-medicating with alcohol to numb the effects of auditory hallucinations mother, in case you were confused about who I meant. I was. Confused, I mean. And I've known her my whole life.
Mamma: I know you in Toronto now. They see you at Sherway Garden Mall.
Eufemia: Who saw?
Mamma: They!
Eufemia: I hate they. You mean the voices. Do we have to go over this again, because I'd rather hang up. It's really hot here.
Mamma: Your voice is so clear, I can hear you like you're next door.
Eufemia: Well, I'm not. I'm 10 hours ahead of you, like I've been telling you since December.
Mamma: Where?
Eufemia: IN INDIA.
Mamma: Oh, ya, India. What's the weather like?
Eufemia: IT'S REALLY HOT.
Mamma: What's the time now?
Eufemia: Ten hours ahead. It's 5:30 p.m. [PLEASE NOTE: For 19 years my mother has been asking me, with a degree of regularity that makes me homicidal, what time it is in Vancouver. As if the Teutonic plates shifted again and Vancouver was suddenly in the same time zone as Japan]
Mamma: Did you eat dinner already? What you eat there?
Eufemia: Pasta.
Mamma: No, come on you.
Eufemia: Rice.
Mamma: Ya, I think they eat rice. Did you get my letters? I sent you some money for Christmas and your birthday.
Eufemia: I DON'T KNOW BECAUSE I'M IN INDIA AND YOU SENT THEM TO VANCOUVER.
Mamma: You sure the girl* no steal what I mail you? I send you money. I send presents for Christmas and the birthday.
*By the girl, my mother means my God-sent roommate, who even called my mother to reassure her I was fine while I was away at the ashram without regular access to a phone. My mother's concerned Caroline would steal the 100% polyester blouse that looks like a sequin factory exploded and all these shiny, ugly bits and bobbles got stuck on this red fabric and some dear slave-wage seamstress decided to make the best of it.
Eufemia: She wouldn't steal anything. I'll be able to tell to you when I get home, stop asking me to tell you now.
Mamma: Are you coming home to Toronto?
[ANOTHER NOTE PLEASE: Toronto has not been home for 19 years. There was a house there, for a long time. It's been sold. But it was a house, not a home.]
Eufemia: No
Mamma: Why no?
Eufemia: I DON'T KNOW BECAUSE I'M IN INDIA AND YOU SENT THEM TO VANCOUVER.
Mamma: You sure the girl* no steal what I mail you? I send you money. I send presents for Christmas and the birthday.
*By the girl, my mother means my God-sent roommate, who even called my mother to reassure her I was fine while I was away at the ashram without regular access to a phone. My mother's concerned Caroline would steal the 100% polyester blouse that looks like a sequin factory exploded and all these shiny, ugly bits and bobbles got stuck on this red fabric and some dear slave-wage seamstress decided to make the best of it.
Eufemia: She wouldn't steal anything. I'll be able to tell to you when I get home, stop asking me to tell you now.
Mamma: Are you coming home to Toronto?
[ANOTHER NOTE PLEASE: Toronto has not been home for 19 years. There was a house there, for a long time. It's been sold. But it was a house, not a home.]
Eufemia: No
Mamma: Why no?
Eufemia: Because you live there.
A Day in the Life of Love
Love likes to get up early in the morning to greet the dawn
some days, Love likes to sleep in.
Love washes its face and brushes its teeth
sees signs of itself growing older –
through laugh lines gathering at its mouth
and in the maps of many smiles past,
showing up in the creases by its eyes
This makes Love very happy
Love likes to see itself as both the roots of an old growth Oak tree,
burrowing down towards the earth’s core,
as well as the branches swaying in the breeze, reaching skyward
leaves dancing in the air
Love likes to dance
Love snaps its fingers to jazz &
hums out of tune with the car radio
Love, as it turns out, likes to rock out,
Love likes to play the Harmonium
and belts out Kirtan at the top of its lungs.
Love likes to chant mantras & recite prayers,
sometimes Love sings in the shower
Love likes to play Scrabble & knows a few card tricks
Love likes to go for walks on bridges over rushing water
Love likes to trapeze without a net
Love likes to place its head in the jaws of a lion
some might think this means Love is a daredevil
and this makes Love laugh
because Love knows
it can never die
Love gets in a full day, tilling the fields, gathering the crops
& also finding time to take a nap
Love as mother watches over you when you sleep
Love as father carries you on his shoulders
Love is both the family you’re born into and the family you find
Love taps you on the shoulder
steps on your toes
bumps into you on the sidewalk
bumps into you in India
Love moves continents because Love is a verb
at the end of the day,
Love reflects on its journey and realises
it is itself the destination
with this new found awareness
Love joins hands with Gratitude & Devotion
Love has expanded –
which is all it ever came here to do
some days, Love likes to sleep in.
Love washes its face and brushes its teeth
sees signs of itself growing older –
through laugh lines gathering at its mouth
and in the maps of many smiles past,
showing up in the creases by its eyes
This makes Love very happy
Love likes to see itself as both the roots of an old growth Oak tree,
burrowing down towards the earth’s core,
as well as the branches swaying in the breeze, reaching skyward
leaves dancing in the air
Love likes to dance
Love snaps its fingers to jazz &
hums out of tune with the car radio
Love, as it turns out, likes to rock out,
Love likes to play the Harmonium
and belts out Kirtan at the top of its lungs.
Love likes to chant mantras & recite prayers,
sometimes Love sings in the shower
Love likes to play Scrabble & knows a few card tricks
Love likes to go for walks on bridges over rushing water
Love likes to trapeze without a net
Love likes to place its head in the jaws of a lion
some might think this means Love is a daredevil
and this makes Love laugh
because Love knows
it can never die
Love gets in a full day, tilling the fields, gathering the crops
& also finding time to take a nap
Love as mother watches over you when you sleep
Love as father carries you on his shoulders
Love is both the family you’re born into and the family you find
Love taps you on the shoulder
steps on your toes
bumps into you on the sidewalk
bumps into you in India
Love moves continents because Love is a verb
at the end of the day,
Love reflects on its journey and realises
it is itself the destination
with this new found awareness
Love joins hands with Gratitude & Devotion
Love has expanded –
which is all it ever came here to do
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Mai Canada Ka Houn
Alright, so it's been a bit of a bumpy week - well, Tuesday, that was a bit rough. Wednesday and Thursday weren't exactly picnics either though the Sun came out on Thursday (today) - I could see it from the windows of the day-long Celebrating Recovery Together Conference I attended. Though it being slightly warm (wait for it, I'll tell you when it's hot enough for ya) made me yearn for the hottest state - no, not Texas Mr. Ethan Hawke, Rajasthan. Maybe you should check your Geography and stats before you going naming your novels all willy-nilly and wrong like that.
Now begins the Tribulations part of this blog.
Why not, writing it kept me together in India and I think that's what I was missing here, what's keeping me together here? Figaro? Nay. Figaro Amadeus Furud* Fantetti, my feline soul mate, had this to say about my return:
"Where were you, you over-sized piece of mouse-dung? Enjoyed yourself? Thanks for missing Christmas, New Years, my birthday and our anniversary."
He did not apologise for the 5 pairs of shoes he wrecked (of mine, not counting the roomies!) including leather Puma runners. ("Puma this, sistah" I believe were his exact words.)
*The recent Indian addition/expansion to his name, Furud, means unique, matchless. He's okay with the name, he just wants me to grovel a little more.
What I wanted to tell you but forgot was - on the return flight, during the stretch between Singapore and Korea, I practiced my Hindi on Singapore Airline's Wiseman System, (it has the Berlitz Language program) and it asked the question:
Aap kahan ke rahne wale hai? Where are you from?
Never mind that all I could recognise in that sentence was You and From because it's worded completely different than any other way I've heard it before - (did I mention they have at least 5 names for the Moon in Hindi and everyone I asked could only tell me 2? Swamiji's comment: "There's more than 5, there's many" Me: "That doesn't help me at all, Swamiji.")
The answer popped up Mai Canada ka houn. Doesn't that rock? Or pardon me, bangra? Even the Airline's Berlitz Language Learning Tutor System says it's from Canada.
Though I admit, after a full day of rain and struggling with getting out of apartment, and getting winded when going up a hill/incline of a 15 degree angle, I didn't see the greatness of it so much anymore. Though I understand these things take time. Really? Things like gratitude and counting your blessings?
Nay.
This is what I've been using as a mantra, now that I don't have my daily dose of chanting to Durga, Ganesha, Gayatri and Shiva to start the day off right: Suck it up, cupcake. Some people have real problems.
I am my own worst enemy, it's true.
Now begins the Tribulations part of this blog.
Why not, writing it kept me together in India and I think that's what I was missing here, what's keeping me together here? Figaro? Nay. Figaro Amadeus Furud* Fantetti, my feline soul mate, had this to say about my return:
"Where were you, you over-sized piece of mouse-dung? Enjoyed yourself? Thanks for missing Christmas, New Years, my birthday and our anniversary."
He did not apologise for the 5 pairs of shoes he wrecked (of mine, not counting the roomies!) including leather Puma runners. ("Puma this, sistah" I believe were his exact words.)
*The recent Indian addition/expansion to his name, Furud, means unique, matchless. He's okay with the name, he just wants me to grovel a little more.
What I wanted to tell you but forgot was - on the return flight, during the stretch between Singapore and Korea, I practiced my Hindi on Singapore Airline's Wiseman System, (it has the Berlitz Language program) and it asked the question:
Aap kahan ke rahne wale hai? Where are you from?
Never mind that all I could recognise in that sentence was You and From because it's worded completely different than any other way I've heard it before - (did I mention they have at least 5 names for the Moon in Hindi and everyone I asked could only tell me 2? Swamiji's comment: "There's more than 5, there's many" Me: "That doesn't help me at all, Swamiji.")
The answer popped up Mai Canada ka houn. Doesn't that rock? Or pardon me, bangra? Even the Airline's Berlitz Language Learning Tutor System says it's from Canada.
Though I admit, after a full day of rain and struggling with getting out of apartment, and getting winded when going up a hill/incline of a 15 degree angle, I didn't see the greatness of it so much anymore. Though I understand these things take time. Really? Things like gratitude and counting your blessings?
Nay.
This is what I've been using as a mantra, now that I don't have my daily dose of chanting to Durga, Ganesha, Gayatri and Shiva to start the day off right: Suck it up, cupcake. Some people have real problems.
I am my own worst enemy, it's true.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
What happens in India
Unless you are rich, and can convalesce in a sanatorium estate (where visitors come down a tiered, oceanside lawn to find you at your easel), you have to keep going when you're depressed.
- Virginia Heffernan
A Delicious Placebo
A Delicious Placebo
In other news, there's a rumor that it's going to be 28 degrees in Vancouver tomorrow. I'll believe it when I feel it in my rheumatic bones.
In other other news, when the cable guy came by yesterday to see why my internet/phone signal was so weak, he confirmed that in the movie Iron Man they speak a version of Hindi-Urdu-Farsi-Mishmash. After I told him I'd spent most of my time in Rajasthan, he asked if I'd been to Jaipur, as 7 car bombs had just gone off there, killing several people near a Hindu temple and in the tourist district.
Later that day, my dad called, right on schedule to see if my phone was finally working. Dad called my roommate's phone my first day back and said "Thank God you're home. Tonight I finally gonna sleep good."
Out of my good Catholic girl guilt I apologised for causing him so many sleepless nights, "but you know there was nothing to worry about."
No, I'm not going to mention Jaipur, bombs going off in popular tourist zones, etc, and neither are you.
"Of course," my dad insisted, there was plenty to worry about. "Everything happens close to India. See what's happen in Burma? And in China now? Those places close to India, everything happen close to India."
Perhaps because the bombings in Rajasthan were a blip on the world news radar, he didn't catch it. But also, he didn't really know where I was in India, he never asked, I never clarified. I didn't even bother to say North. God forbid the man should pull out his atlas and take a look at the part where Rajasthan borders Pakistan, because then, somebody gonna get sleepless nights like you no believe and somebody else gonna get a talking to like she no need.
Like they say, what happens in India stays in India.
In other other news, when the cable guy came by yesterday to see why my internet/phone signal was so weak, he confirmed that in the movie Iron Man they speak a version of Hindi-Urdu-Farsi-Mishmash. After I told him I'd spent most of my time in Rajasthan, he asked if I'd been to Jaipur, as 7 car bombs had just gone off there, killing several people near a Hindu temple and in the tourist district.
Later that day, my dad called, right on schedule to see if my phone was finally working. Dad called my roommate's phone my first day back and said "Thank God you're home. Tonight I finally gonna sleep good."
Out of my good Catholic girl guilt I apologised for causing him so many sleepless nights, "but you know there was nothing to worry about."
No, I'm not going to mention Jaipur, bombs going off in popular tourist zones, etc, and neither are you.
"Of course," my dad insisted, there was plenty to worry about. "Everything happens close to India. See what's happen in Burma? And in China now? Those places close to India, everything happen close to India."
Perhaps because the bombings in Rajasthan were a blip on the world news radar, he didn't catch it. But also, he didn't really know where I was in India, he never asked, I never clarified. I didn't even bother to say North. God forbid the man should pull out his atlas and take a look at the part where Rajasthan borders Pakistan, because then, somebody gonna get sleepless nights like you no believe and somebody else gonna get a talking to like she no need.
Like they say, what happens in India stays in India.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig
Apparently, according to Mother Goose it's "Home Again, home again, not dancing a jig" - all these years and no one corrected me - how embarrassing to misquote Mother Goose, I mean, who's going to trust my Shakespeare or Biblical quotes if I can't nail down nursery rhymes?
So here's what happened: I went to see Iron Man with my friend Jenn (That's God Bless Jenn) and there were scenes where the bad guys were speaking Hindi! Possibly it was supposed to be Urdu but not being a linguist or even remotely close to fluent in Hindi, I can't tell these two languages apart. I heard difficult, what are you doing, very and nothing: mushkil, kya kara, bahut, kuch nay. It was great to hear Hindi outside of my Bollywood fare. And I liked the movie too.
Then walking home, I jaywalked across Georgia and Granville - when there was noooooo traffic for like miles and miles, but since the light was red - everyone was standing back, waiting and being extremely polite. I looked at them and thought "Aren't they cold? Don't they want to get home as fast as I do?" As far as I can see, we live somewhere where the traffic slows down because of insurance, and premiums, and stuff like that.
Just in front of HBC, a little mouse ran out, crossed my path and ran into the concrete planter. It might have been a baby rat, once again, this, like languages, is not my area of expertise as it were. It was the size of a Purdy's chocolate hedgehog, and no joke, it was soooo cute!
Well, my last rodent activity was standing on the train platform in Delhi and praying that the rats that were as big as the small cat that was at The Lotus Hotel in Pushkar would leave me alone by running the other way. I was praying very hard, because I didn't want Delhi-folk to remember me as that shrieking woman on the platform.
Here's the thing: I followed this mouse, it stopped and looked at me, and I actually said "Oh my gosh - Hello!" I wanted to cup my hands and see if I could pick it up - AND then this thought occurred to me: "What the HELL going on?" The mouse, being the smart one, ran away, and I stood there wondering how such a tiny guy survives - I'm sure it's not easy to hide without a lot of trash around for cover, to dart around under. I felt strange and weird, in a way that I couldn't put my finger on it and then I realized; oh my good Lord, I'm worried about this baby mouse-rat surviving in downtown Vancouver.
I walked on towards Granville skytrain slowly, making sure I had my ticket in my hand as twice now I've accidentally been on a moving train before realizing I had not validated my ticket ("Ahhh, I'm sorry officer, I'm a little out of it, I just got back into town and while I'm late paying my taxes this year can I just say that if any of my taxpayer monies go towards paying for you to patrol skytrain for people who don't pay for their fare I think that's fishing ridiculous.")
And all I kept thinking was abi kya? Kya the hell waa?
Now what? What the hell happened?
So here's what happened: I went to see Iron Man with my friend Jenn (That's God Bless Jenn) and there were scenes where the bad guys were speaking Hindi! Possibly it was supposed to be Urdu but not being a linguist or even remotely close to fluent in Hindi, I can't tell these two languages apart. I heard difficult, what are you doing, very and nothing: mushkil, kya kara, bahut, kuch nay. It was great to hear Hindi outside of my Bollywood fare. And I liked the movie too.
Then walking home, I jaywalked across Georgia and Granville - when there was noooooo traffic for like miles and miles, but since the light was red - everyone was standing back, waiting and being extremely polite. I looked at them and thought "Aren't they cold? Don't they want to get home as fast as I do?" As far as I can see, we live somewhere where the traffic slows down because of insurance, and premiums, and stuff like that.
Just in front of HBC, a little mouse ran out, crossed my path and ran into the concrete planter. It might have been a baby rat, once again, this, like languages, is not my area of expertise as it were. It was the size of a Purdy's chocolate hedgehog, and no joke, it was soooo cute!
Well, my last rodent activity was standing on the train platform in Delhi and praying that the rats that were as big as the small cat that was at The Lotus Hotel in Pushkar would leave me alone by running the other way. I was praying very hard, because I didn't want Delhi-folk to remember me as that shrieking woman on the platform.
Here's the thing: I followed this mouse, it stopped and looked at me, and I actually said "Oh my gosh - Hello!" I wanted to cup my hands and see if I could pick it up - AND then this thought occurred to me: "What the HELL going on?" The mouse, being the smart one, ran away, and I stood there wondering how such a tiny guy survives - I'm sure it's not easy to hide without a lot of trash around for cover, to dart around under. I felt strange and weird, in a way that I couldn't put my finger on it and then I realized; oh my good Lord, I'm worried about this baby mouse-rat surviving in downtown Vancouver.
I walked on towards Granville skytrain slowly, making sure I had my ticket in my hand as twice now I've accidentally been on a moving train before realizing I had not validated my ticket ("Ahhh, I'm sorry officer, I'm a little out of it, I just got back into town and while I'm late paying my taxes this year can I just say that if any of my taxpayer monies go towards paying for you to patrol skytrain for people who don't pay for their fare I think that's fishing ridiculous.")
And all I kept thinking was abi kya? Kya the hell waa?
Now what? What the hell happened?
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Not Yet Famous Last Words
For those of you who know my fabulous roommate, this exchange may not surprise you, but for those who don't, Caroline is a creative soul with much insight, and bahut genius.
To set the scene, first full day back, first FULL POWER day back and everything was normal (whatever that means) and fine. At around 4 in the afternoon I was calculating it was really 5 a.m. for my body and that I should go to bed, that it might help me stop walking into the walls. I decided to get into the bath instead. I flipped through a magazine and at some point burst into tears. Then I crawled over to bed, and then, Thank God Caroline (her full Christian name. I know! I thought it was weird that her parents gave her a Christian name too, especially when she's Jewish) came home.
So I got up and followed her into the living room because now I don't have to sit by myself with these thoughts any more. I mean mostly. I mean, now, or then, yesterday, she was there and I was extremely grateful.
This is my favourite excerpt our conversation (where I don't think I made much sense but just kept going on about feeling at a loss and clueless and confused and no idea what happens next and how I felt so alone in India and well, you've read it all before) :
Caroline: We're all creatures that are going to die-
Eufemia: That doesn't make me feel any better-
Caroline: But I think that that's a good thing
To set the scene, first full day back, first FULL POWER day back and everything was normal (whatever that means) and fine. At around 4 in the afternoon I was calculating it was really 5 a.m. for my body and that I should go to bed, that it might help me stop walking into the walls. I decided to get into the bath instead. I flipped through a magazine and at some point burst into tears. Then I crawled over to bed, and then, Thank God Caroline (her full Christian name. I know! I thought it was weird that her parents gave her a Christian name too, especially when she's Jewish) came home.
So I got up and followed her into the living room because now I don't have to sit by myself with these thoughts any more. I mean mostly. I mean, now, or then, yesterday, she was there and I was extremely grateful.
This is my favourite excerpt our conversation (where I don't think I made much sense but just kept going on about feeling at a loss and clueless and confused and no idea what happens next and how I felt so alone in India and well, you've read it all before) :
Caroline: We're all creatures that are going to die-
Eufemia: That doesn't make me feel any better-
Caroline: But I think that that's a good thing
Friday, May 2, 2008
Om Shanti Om
After 53+ hours of traveling: train, plane and stop-overs, I'm home.
During those 53 hours I couldn't sleep, but thrice I shut my eyes and then my mouth fell open and I started drooling while sitting straight up in my seat. I believe I nabbed good 4 hours of rest that way. I wanted to stretch out at several stop-over points but was too worried about falling completely into the oblivion of dream-land and missing the connecting flights. ("I'm sorry, why is this called a connecting flight if I have to wait many hours for it? Where's the connection, exactly?")
It was a very sunny day, with some clouds. The Captain said it was 9 degrees outside. I looked down at my purple flip-flops. Then I looked around and saw everyone was better prepared for the weather than I was.
No matter, my friend God bless Jenn (That's her full Christian name, 'God bless Jenn') was there with Thrasso (surprise! - and fyi his full name is Om Namo Thrasso) and they hussled me home quick and fast. Jenn asked if I wanted to have a shower, and I was awake enough to realize it wasn't just a question but a matter of dire importance when I'd been wearing the same clothes for the last 3 days, and on the first day it had been 42 degrees - in the shade. On the second, 37.
And how do I repay such dear friends? I made them watch the 'Pain of Disco' sequence from Om Shanti Om. I can now sing this part in Hindi: My heart is full with the pain of disco, pain of disco, pain of disco. At least I think I can, and who is going to correct me?
Exactly.
Sigh.
Who?
Then I got dressed as best I could in a combination of clothes left behind and shoes from Caroline and went for some tea with said friends. Thrasso commented: You look like you fell down in Value Village. Even though it was 3 p.m Thursday, it was really 4 a.m. Friday India time, and I thought I was doing quite well, even if I couldn't finish a sentence without trailing off and wondering what words meant what, in English.
Then I saw Cathy, and I had the same speech impediment, and then, I slept, after 64 hours of travel and reading and movies and trying to catch a rest and some sleep, I fell asleep for 14 hours. I got up a few times but kept wandering in a daze back to sleep.
Now I'm up but I'm not really awake.
And my heart is full with the pain of disco.
Om Shanti All, Om Shanti Om.
During those 53 hours I couldn't sleep, but thrice I shut my eyes and then my mouth fell open and I started drooling while sitting straight up in my seat. I believe I nabbed good 4 hours of rest that way. I wanted to stretch out at several stop-over points but was too worried about falling completely into the oblivion of dream-land and missing the connecting flights. ("I'm sorry, why is this called a connecting flight if I have to wait many hours for it? Where's the connection, exactly?")
It was a very sunny day, with some clouds. The Captain said it was 9 degrees outside. I looked down at my purple flip-flops. Then I looked around and saw everyone was better prepared for the weather than I was.
No matter, my friend God bless Jenn (That's her full Christian name, 'God bless Jenn') was there with Thrasso (surprise! - and fyi his full name is Om Namo Thrasso) and they hussled me home quick and fast. Jenn asked if I wanted to have a shower, and I was awake enough to realize it wasn't just a question but a matter of dire importance when I'd been wearing the same clothes for the last 3 days, and on the first day it had been 42 degrees - in the shade. On the second, 37.
And how do I repay such dear friends? I made them watch the 'Pain of Disco' sequence from Om Shanti Om. I can now sing this part in Hindi: My heart is full with the pain of disco, pain of disco, pain of disco. At least I think I can, and who is going to correct me?
Exactly.
Sigh.
Who?
Then I got dressed as best I could in a combination of clothes left behind and shoes from Caroline and went for some tea with said friends. Thrasso commented: You look like you fell down in Value Village. Even though it was 3 p.m Thursday, it was really 4 a.m. Friday India time, and I thought I was doing quite well, even if I couldn't finish a sentence without trailing off and wondering what words meant what, in English.
Then I saw Cathy, and I had the same speech impediment, and then, I slept, after 64 hours of travel and reading and movies and trying to catch a rest and some sleep, I fell asleep for 14 hours. I got up a few times but kept wandering in a daze back to sleep.
Now I'm up but I'm not really awake.
And my heart is full with the pain of disco.
Om Shanti All, Om Shanti Om.
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