6 Week Blues

(awestruck introspection)

(source of inspiration)

Every few days, I fluctuate between an awestruck daze from my new experiences and adventures to a depressed question mark from my crash from the highs. Below is a diagram that I made before I came to India, leaving my nine-year Los Angeles life behind.

(Life is like a math equation)

Only a geek would try to look at the diagram, and only a true nerd would think it’s funny. So if you’re actually laughing with me and not at me, then thank you. They say that if you are here, you are either a missionary (spreading the word of god), a mercenary (looking out for yourself and building a resume), or a misfit (some kind of miscreant). Which one would you be? And me? Notice the alliteration, so I joked with Anna that we are math nerds.

Anyway, to explain the graph a little, notice that before the acceptance to Woodstock, my emotional wavelength was solid as a rock, extremely level-headed. But after, my moods became a crazy fluctuation between excitement and freaking out. Back and forth, back and forth, without any notice at all. It was crazy. Now that time, expressed at t, has approached “India”, my emotional rollercoaster has steadied a bit, but I am still going through ups and downs. I’m afraid my graph will never approach one or exactly level-headed again, and that my previous existence is now only a boundary or a limit (math term) which I can never touch.

I suppose feeling some kind of emotion is the spice of life though. Hey, did you notice the reference to “Spinal Tap” in the graph? I think that is the funniest part, if you remember that scene. You know, about the 11.

Today was almost the exact six-week mark of being here, which the school warned us, would be our low point. They said us new teachers would be commiserating about the great things of American (or Canadian or whatever) life, and the way we do things there, the “correct” way! I didn’t believe it yesterday, but today it hit me. I was feeling a bit down, and all of a sudden was wishing that I could just get a bicycle and ride far away from these mountains and onto the bike path by the beach, towards the ocean. I wanted to be sitting in a dark movie theater, on a reclining, velvety seat watching some action comedy. I want to be wandering around in the desert at a music festival, just wearing my shorts, t-shirt, and flip flops. Hanging out with my friends. My old friends.

(where are you, surfboard and waves?)

(where are you car and bike?)

(where are you flip flop? I know, you’re here with me in Mussoorie, but all moldy from the monsoon :( )

(where are you, old friends? I know, emailing me!)

Well, what about my new friends? The interesting thing is, there are the new families here who have the challenge of importing themselves enmasse and running their whole production in a foreign land. There are the married couples who luckily have each other. There are the single people like me, who have the luxury of traveling lightly and making decisions on a whim. And, who I find most intriguing are the people who having been here one, five, or many years. These are “veterans” who know their way around, sort of, and are established, sort of. The “lifers” as I call them, are here for good. But the “old timers” who will probably leave after their contracts expire, might be in a more precarious situation than us new timers. These old farts give the illusion of being settled and secure, but little do they show the loss in seeing their old fart friends leave every summer after finishing their contracts. These current old farts need us new GI’s (not the military term, but the gastro one) just as much as we need them.

And true friendship forms slowly, no matter how accelerated a pace you are living. In a year, I will be mourning the departure of my old fart friends while bonding even more closely with the people who arrived with me. And making friends with the new arrivals. But right now, everyone here is still getting to know each other and we are only tentatively leaning on each other. Sometimes it is lonely not knowing people to the core, and not having them know me. But luckily, we’re sort of all in this together. And we can define ourselves anew.

(self invited dinner)

(The Prakash's dobi -- guy who takes the clothes and washes it. Big load!!!)

So tonight, I invited myself over to the Prakash’s, like an injured animal who walks itself to the vet. It was fun! And I feel better. I like their food much better than mine. They are in the process of moving into a less mold-infested house and will need some muscle power soon. I hope they don’t feel bashful in asking me to help! (Despite my skinny arms, hee hee!)