I woke up this morning as usual... and then not as usual.. to find that my account has been accidentally charged over four hundred dollars. Let's see if I can scrape by on this one.
I hate how powerless I feel here. I can't go to peoples' offices at school to demand my independent study. I can't go to Commerce Bank and get this straightened out (I have to rely on Mom for that one).
Over everything and anything .. that is the worst feeling I get about being here. Everything else I can handle. The missing (only an acknowledgement that I am lucky to have people and things to miss), the sickness (part of the package), and the distance (temporary).

Someone emailed me back about putting me up for GPAC. So, that's almost taken care of. I'll be sleeping on a couch with six other people in the room and maybe a cat. I'm excited. New new people.
Speaking of new people.. there will be 32 20 somethings coming on Monday. I think we all intend to actually shower on that day.

I was listening to some music yesterday and it reminded me of Nora. I thought about when I was little and asked my mom if I was every going to have a best friend and she said I would, of course. And then there was that night in April 2000 where I could've died in a car crash and Nora had her mom drive her to my house to see how I was. I opened the door and there she stood crying and she hugged me really tight. The feeling of that embrace and seeing how much she cared ... Yes, I have a wonderful best friend.

We went to Sangum yesterday. Beautiful. With trellises, sculptures dotting the property, and a place for pottery. Some pamphlets were given to us. Opening it up, there was a picture of last year's group. And there was D. And there were all the feelings I associate with him. And it made me smile. Unexpectedly, which is the best kind of smiling.

Joti asked us to make sculptures of a bird and a snake and convey how they relate to the land or eachother. My snake wound itself between two mountains that were breasts. Women being associated with the earth - symbolically and always connected to serpents because of the Garden of Eden. So, as is the fashion, I turned the negative into a positive little sculpture and it felt soooo good to be creative .. to dig my hand into the wet/cold clay.

After lunch and tea and sculpting we drove over to the school for children and saw a play they've been rehearsing. It was beautiful. It made me want to hug the ground beneath me and stay here forever. But I can't. I could only stay until June, really.. because of my visa. And even then.. I have to go home and work. I want to be able to Stay in the sense of working.. doing something .. not staying ten days after to go to a beach. I'm interested, but not enough.. in that idea.

Out the door to Bangalore today. It's Malika's birthday and we're being set loose on the city for four hours. Then dinner.. then some good stuff.

Second paper is finished as of yesterday. I feel good about it. And I'm researching my final term paper topic. How men are conditioned/socialized in India. How they feel about the women's movement.. other things to be formed more articulately at a later date.

Honesty and hard looks at myself have come in the forms of 3 hour sit downs, finger pointing at a meeting, and an email.

.thank goodness for them.

Quiet and peace within have come through looking at myself hard, looking at myself lovingly, breathing deeply, smiling with Cheche, petting Pinky even though I know she's dirty, cotton candy and orange creamsicle sunsets, and singing from the deepest part of me.

Let the pounding of your foot against the dirt reverberate through your body and feel it in the smallest bone of your back as you walk. Hear those singing voices that are riding on a warm breeze. Look up at the pink/blue sky and breathe out… and decompress.
Maybe there was a knot in your stomach 15 minutes ago and maybe this past week carried with it a force you have not reckoned with in some time.
~~
I was looking for Oamjie and some of the girls; they went for a walk. Make a direct left out of the ashram and you find yourself in wilderness. Every path strewn heavily with rocks that I stubbed my toe on a couple of times and each tree rustling with chipmunks and singing like birds. I couldn’t find them and I stopped walking. Squinting my eyes against the sun and letting it beat down on me, my mind became quiet.
Realizing I wouldn’t want to be around that many people anyway, I headed back. Left, right, left, right… working through every thing in my head and I swear I’m getting better at this.
Most often I feel I am a person in progress; a fetus with potential. That belief has only entered my mind since I arrived. I am trying so hard to form, and wondering if I’m not formed already and if this isn’t just another example of me doing myself a disservice.

Big questions.
~~

Turn right into the ashram and walk up the path, but stop. I heard a little voice go “Hey hey hey.” It was Cheche (sheh shee) and she had folded herself into the footrest on a scooter. In between the steering handles and seat. I wiped the sweat off my face and she asked if I had been jogging. I told her walking. She didn’t understand so I walked in front of her and said walking. I asked her what walking was in Kannada and she told me, but of course I’ve already forgotten. We talked for a little while and she hasn’t talked that much to me since we’ve met.
She makes me happy. The kitchen staff makes me happy. Being patted on the butt by Big Jamma made me happy today and I was happy when I talked to her about her headache and she taught me Medicine in Kannada. Marta or something like that.
I am going to teach Cheche English and she’ll teach me Kannada. We’ve decided.
~~

Sitting in the meeting circle in front of a large statue of a female Ganesh I take my sandals off and rest my feet in the red dirt. And I relax and I smile because I’m here and I know everything is going to be fine. Maybe I am not as formed as I can be. Who is? In the past month and a half I have gained and accepted complete trust. I have exercised it and I am living it. I am living many good things. Love, excitement, passion, consciousness, perseverance, will power.
~~

It’s dusk now and I think I will go sit in the tower and look at the lake. There is importance in being with yourself and only yourself. For years I have been afraid of it: the silence, the thoughts running around, the missing out on what’s going on “out there”; but I am teaching myself to be comfortable with what’s happening “in here”.

Interesting ... I clicked on "New Post" and now I have nothing to say. I just registered for the GPAC youth summit.

You should too.

www.gpac.org/youthsummit


and if anyone ends up going ... let me know because I registered without having a place to stay because it cost extra. I must rely on the kindness of the queer youth. They are all very kind.


I feel pretty numb today.

They sell milk in sealed plastic bags here and tobacco in little packets we mistook for condoms. The roads are thriving, throbbing, beating with the pulse of activity/ reverberating incessantly in my eardrums/ widening my eyes with bright saris, simple lungis, and ornate jewelry. That’s in the villages and only a small sampling of what you’ll find in the city.
Men wearing tight pants that flare out at the bottom and have bleach purposely splashed on them, open neck shirts, and slick hair. The picture painted may sound more like a used car sales man, but I promise you, it’s a sight to see. Their dress isn’t so much American as it is an exaggerated/sensationalized version of what Western wear is. The men walk with their women, only now and then do I see a couple holding hands, who wear traditional saris, a bindi, and a nose pierced on the usual right side. This is most of the time, but around Jewelers’ Street and way downtown Bangalore, there are jeans, belly buttons, boobs and short hair staring you in the face. The stores have jeans, tank tops, and sexy advertisements on display. One was a large poster of a woman who fits the American ideal and (I have to wonder) is ruining the Indian woman’s self image. Having to be thin .. or having that be desirable exists already in most cultures and is equally as impossible to attain no matter where you go. But here, you have to be that thin and that fair skinned.
Everyone walks right in the streets in Bangalore. The three wheeled auto taxis will come right behind you and beep – brushing your hand as they squeeze past. All the people definitely have somewhere to go and in the villages the street is just a part of your back yard. It’s different. It’s nice. The kids play games, men debate, women debate too; it’s like an office, a play ground, a meeting hall.

I came back from Madurai this morning. I have to be honest before I say anything and admit that I did not have as good a time as I could have/should have/would have had if I wasn’t depressed throughout most of it. It was a sadness that materialized into stomach pain, twisted my face into hard expressions, made my eyes wince with each meal, and gladly I would sleep at the end of each day. Madurai was seen through this state of mind. I had to stop walking around the beautiful Meenakshi temple and hold my side for a little while and sit next to a statue of an elephant to let it pass.
I shut down at one point and couldn’t feel much of anything. I heard my mother’s voice in my head … something about how medication helps you, it’s not a crutch. And then I hear her again … something to the tune of I’ll probably have to be on medication for the rest of my life. And she will because she thinks she does. It doesn’t happen very often at all. It was healthy for me… it was cleansing. My motto used to be Don’t let anything touch you. And now I know it has to be .. Let everything in and feel all of it. So I did.

Oamjie asked me two nights ago where his little girl was (that’d be what he calls me). I smiled in reply and he said “You used to be smiling all the time and I’ve noticed a difference.”
It’s hard to write about this now b/c I’m not feeling it anymore, but it’s very important that it is written…for honesty’s and documentation’s sake.

Ours was the Hotel Supreme and I am now convinced that any hotel with Supreme/Elegance/Luxury/etc. included in its name is anything but and is trying to make up for something. And, something that I’m sure cannot be helped by anyone or anything, I’ve come home with ten mosquito bites as souvenirs and a big pimple way underneath my skin from all the sweating I did there.
And speaking of souvenirs … I have officially now seen people haggle … and work a seller down to a reasonable price, and get worked over by a seller. God, it’s better than any TV show. I finally got my long short pants for 115 rps, Katy worked on the shop owner at the hotel for 2 days and got some paintings at a good price, and Lauren talked a guy down from 300 to 180. Beautifully and comically done. Some of the group is really uncomfortable with it, but I’m getting better. My secret is to get indignant and maybe a little pissed off. What?! My money?? For that? But I’m broke!
Yes, possessiveness of money can be used for good: saving money.

We went to a light show at a palace that belonged to the king of Madurai over 300 years ago. Malika took some pictures with her digital and a lot of orbs showed up. Oamjie told me that a lot of men were killed in that palace and certainly their spirits were hovering over us. From what I understand, it was more fun last year. This year there were no actors, no folk singing afterwards. Outside two women were selling anklets and I now have two … for the price of thirty rupees. One is the kind that jingles when I walk. And the other, more simple. I had one on each ankle, but Gopi told me this morning that looks very ugly. So, hmm, I took the jingly one off. Truth is, I didn’t figure out how to take it off until this morning.

A trip was also made to two different NGOs. The first was is called DAWN and I talked at length with the founder, Shanta, about the feminist movement in India/it’s problems/disconnects/and divisions. I think this is what I’ll be writing about for my 20 page paper. We also went to People Watch. They have a 10 week internship program that deals with human rights for Dalits. I’m putting it on the list of things I could do after graduating along with Peru, GPAC, and various.

On the last day we (always We) headed out to the Meenakshi Temple. I want to say it’s 16 acres big, but I’m not sure. Something huge… So many people inside!! Getting ready to get married, getting married, hanging out, shaving their head as offerings, selling garlands, and watching the elephants. Yes, elephants; and camels too. There was a very small procession down the center path in the temple and both elephants were adorned in jewelry, beautiful fabrics, and bells. The camels were the same and the most pompous/proud animal I’ve seen with the way they walked and held their heads.
I pet an elephant and its presence was more calming than most of the people I’ve ever known. Later I went for a walk with Bo, Lauren, Taylor, and John and at another temple I got a blessing by an elephant. Yea, all you have to do is give it a coin (which it gives to its caretaker), put your head down, and it will touch you with its slobbery trunk. I had to smile, getting a blessing for some money from a trained elephant.

Wait, I want to talk about this morning. Did my laundry in buckets, came down to the eating area and waiting for me was Heather … a woman with a beautiful baby boy, a husband, and an eagerness to hear what I had to say about being here. And, shit, it really helped. I stopped in mid sentence and told her how good it was to talk with her because for the past week I’d been down and talking about India –making sure I got all the nuances and feelings right – made me remember that I like it here. That I must appreciate every minute of it. She has a daughter who is staying at the Art of Living who is my age and she said that maybe she can come by tonight. Ah a new face! A new face who will be here until the 25th. What luck. Well, hopefully she’ll make it over.

Newness is nice. I am in India, experiencing all this, and I have to say one of the most fascinating things is how the group interacts. How we deal with being around each other all the time. I think it had something to do with the way I withdrew this past week. It’s hard it’s challenging. It’s why I needed to get this all out and, yes, sometimes I prefer a box.

capturing a moment at nine thirty p.m. on a Tuesday

I'm really tired of people asking me what time it is over here. As if by the time I tell them it will be the actual time difference.
I'm fed up with the internet .. or I'm just frustrated. Always reminding myself, though, that no amount of IMs or emails could equal an embrace or smile face to face.
I'm sick. Sick in general. My stomach pulls fast ones on me all the time. One minute okay, the next I'm either running to the bathroom or doing what I did today: sleeping through all three sessions because I was so worn out.

It's been hard to write seeing as how for the past three days I've either been running to a bathroom, sleeping, in class, or relaxing. Being in the computer room is the opposite of relaxing unless I'm on the phone with someone from home.

We went into a village two days ago to see how they harvest rain. I think that's where the sickness came from. Ragi balls as big as my both of my fists and enough white rice to feed an army. When I come home I might not never want to see rice again or I'll just want to eat rice because it's all I'll know. Those are the options.

If anything sticks out from this week it would have to be a combination of getting violently ill for an afternoon, walking with Oamjie through the village down the road, being told my skin is beautiful (just b/c i'm white) by a boy in said village, and cooking with the kitchen staff yesterday.

Yes, we made pizza. Forgive me if I misspell names..
Taylor, Lauren, and I set up shop around 5 pm. Gopi said they want us in there more to learn Kannada. I know how to say "What's this in Kannada?" now - so it helps. I've learned how to say knife. Pretty impressive. I sang a little and Big Jamma told me to sing and Siddram would dance. Siddrham took the cutting knife out of my hand and told me I could dance and he would help. I love him, he always gives me a banana at dinner or lunch. And when I ask for some during tea time he brings me four or five. Lakama told me about her husband Chicana and that she is Siddrham's sister in law... and Chicana's his brother. !! I didn't know. She asked me if I had any brothers or sisters. I said no. I always seem to forget about those boys in Florida, but ... even though I'm talking to my Dad now, I still don't see his family as mine.
The pizzas came out really well and I ate a bunch of them and I don't know why my stomach and my common sense don't ever hang out because I wasn't feeling well this morning.

Today is Valentine's Day. Well, right now it is just Valentine's day here ...In 2 hours it will be Valentine's Day at home. Malika wanted everyone to wear red or pink. Ha, this is a no go. I forgot about it this morning and I've ended up with a full black ensemble. oh well.

I think I wrote this just to write.

The season is changing here. From winter to spring. From the equivalent of our June to August. Little babies are bundled up in sweaters and wool knit caps. Siddharth always has his coat on and John, his vest. Maybe I feel the chill as well because in the morning it is my brown sweater that covers most of my body.
But the breezes are refreshing. I awake every morning around 7 a.m., brush my teeth, tip toe around, wake Lauren up without fail... Our room is dark with the two big windows covered by curtains and just some yellow/grey light from the bathroom making marks on our floor.
When I open the door, I am Dorothy just arriving in Oz. Bright colors greet me, the earthy red of the veranda, the vibrant green of the trees, and there's that warm sun hitting my face. My water bottle in one hand and my other holding the railing, I come down the stairs. First, though, I always remember to turn off the lights outside our door and when I come to the first floor, the light outside the classroom. Pinky usually meets me at the bottom of the stairs or outside our building and walks me to the library. Then she gets excited and runs off to the driveway, waits for me for a heartbeat, and runs off. If she was cleaner I'd pet her all the time and would love having her near me. I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised when she barked outside my door this morning and I opened it to find her pacing back and forth waiting for me.
I was very sick and couldn't leave just then, but I sat with her for a couple of minutes and was about to pet her when she started biting herself because I think she has fleas.

There is more singing now and less dancing, but a lot more singing. I don't mind not dancing as much. Right now I'm looking up lyrics to songs I know fragments of because I think this is my hobby here.. my outlet. Belting out a couple of tunes after dinner, after a long day, after a trying/frustrating/homesick day, I imagine myself at home washing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen going through my repetoire; stopping mid-table wipe to reach a note. I've been asked if I've ever taken lessons and the thought hasn't occurred to me seriously. I don't want it to be something I'm told is right or wrong here or there, it's therapeutic to sing.. just sing.
I sit with the others after dinner on the ledge outside of the old meditation hall. Oamjie will be in front of us, I cannot see his face, just his silhouette, and the light from the edifice of the hall only reaches so far. On our ledge we are dressed in semi-darkness. There are three drums. Gopi has one. Oamjie will have another. And Hiro usually takes the third. There is a very small fourth one which Cheshee or Siddrham takes sometimes.
The guys from the kitchen will sit with us and I wonder if they think our songs are as beautiful or melodic as their own. I am not depreciating my own, but there is something about a classical Indian song in the middle of the night, under the Big Dipper and the clearest Orion's belt you'll ever see that breathes life into the body and convinces you there is a mysticism, a vitality in this place.
Perhaps it's nature. I get the same shivers sitting out in the backyard of my gramparents' house in the foothills of the Adirondack late at night and looking at the stars, singing to myself old miner songs, folk tunes, and little melodies I've made up here or there. I feel the ancestralness of the place, the currents of energy surging through my hand when Grampa and I visit the house he was born in, walk the property line which leads to his cabin in the woods he built awhile back; I feel it even when I hug my gramma and I feel her wisdom, I see the tears in her eyes when she looks at me. She is amazing.. no one has ever looked at me the way my grandmother does. I don't know what she is seeing, but her eyes tell me it's precious, amazing, and something to be nurtured. I have never detached myself like that from her stare, and now that I just have .. it makes me miss her very much.
I've been thinking about north new york for over two weeks now. I've been thinking of how in its own way, unique to my perceptions, this place reminds me of the Adirondacks. The wildlife, the simple living/good/hardworking people, the solitude, the communal feeling.
I am going in August. I will eat blackberries from the backyard, go to the county fair -see the demolition derby, hold my grandfather's rough/leathery/thick hand, play Rummy with Gramma and enjoy her laughter and watch her grey eyes twinkle.

There is no way to comfort here that includes human touch. I lay on my stomach and put my hand on the back of my head, playing with the short hairs at the nape of my neck, closing my eyes and pretending it’s someone else. I have my headphones on and I’m focusing hard on making that hand disconnected from my body. Minutes later I feel a hand on top of mine and it’s Lauren’s.
“What’s up with you?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it”
“I’m here if you want to”

And she leaves to go play volleyball. Later I join them, taking up space on the court, not really playing.

After dinner the sounds of more than a dozen people singing permeates through my headphones and rushes me out of the lab- into a circle of Right Foot Ins and Twirling To The Lefts. Oamjie and about five others ask me to sing afterwards and I come out with “Blue Navy Blue” a song that used to play on 101.1 fm all the time and that I memorized when I was twelve, remembered two days ago. They like it, I cheer up a bit, we play some games.
7 up. Say 7 up each time a number is said including 7 or that is a multiple of 7. If you mess up, you’re out. It comes down to two people... me and one of the people here for a conference. “Oooh an Indian and an American” they all shout. I win.

The downs can be really noticeable when there isn’t anything to numb your brain with. I haven’t watched TV in a month. I realized that yesterday and, god, I don’t miss it. There is so much else to do.

And that was yesterday. And today is today.

I’m feeling so well…. Comfortable/natural. I look at myself from the outside … measuring how tall I stood when I got here and how much higher my chin is today. How much can I write on this subject before it’s exhausted? It’s just amazing, is all… and maybe we talk about things a lot that might scare us a little too.

Slum in Bangalore. Children running at you if they can see your camera in your hand. Smiling faces jumping one in front of the other to get in frame. They all want to know your name, sometimes your mother's name. Women giving you cup after cup of sweetened tea and more biscuits than you can fit in both hands. They cram into a hut with you and talk about how they've improved their lives. Their bank accounts, children, store, and husbands who don't drink as much anymore... and couples who use condoms. And what are you thinking? .. I am still shocked to find myself here sometimes. Still touched when a kid calls me Auntie and when Cheshee (sp!) smiles at me.
I gave her an orange today and asked her some questions. She just laughed at me and said "Kate". She makes the days I see her brighter. And there's Rukema .. her mom... one of the most beautiful women I've seen. She is older, a little wrinkled, and possesses a face which spills over with serenity and eyes that cross any language boundary. They are special to me and without knowing it, are the reason smiles spread across my face. Cheshee must be special... a little girl I can be around without that anxiety/awkwardness I feel with my own little cousins.
I smile shyly at the older boys who look at us as we walk through the slum (what makes a slum a slum?) , not knowing what else to do. Sometimes I see myself as a representative of the people who don't fall into the stereotype of pro-war/fundamentalism/xenophobic American. And, yes, the line between what they perceive America to be and what I am assuming they must think (which is a reflection of my own opinion) is blurred. I want them to know I don't think less of them, that I'm interested, that I don't hold myself higher up... and I always hope that my presence .. our presence.. says that without me having to.
Taylor and I were invited into a hut which housed about six girls and one old man. They roll incense sticks for eight hours a day. It's dark in there and I wonder how their sight is. They don't go to school and must roll a thousand sticks to make 11 rupees. I'm not sensationalizing anything .. or trying to evoke pity. This is their life, I did not make any judgements, but I happily occupied their space for a short while and looked at their faces and tried to remember them; tried to imagine myself in their place...
I took pictures today... One was a girl three feet in front of a big bike smiling at the camera, her face tilted down, her eyes on me... and her father standing behind the bike.
I sat in between Raja and Oamjie on the way back. I told him how when we go out to villages/slums/NGOs I feel as if I should stay here longer. I think I should. I think I owe it to myself. I think if Oamjie really can get me down to Kerala, I should go.
When we leave the ashram, I'm reminded of where I am/ I feel my jaw set and my heart open – signs I need to do more. And maybe not by staying longer, but by doing more while I'm here.. It's so small at Fireflies and our lives are consumed by small things in comparison.
I stood in front of the mirror as Katy cut my hair, sang some Harvey Danger, rocked out to some Kimya Dawson and watched the hair fall all over the blanket we spread out on the floor. I've been too scared for ten years to cut my hair this short. Scared? Imagine .. being scared to cut your hair. When I think about it, ... how ridiculous. It's just hair. And what are you scared of? That people will think differently of you... that you won't look good.
If it's a mind fuck I signed up for. It's a mind fuck I'm getting. I am in an infantile state of development, it seems/ starting over/ ripping apart every way I make decisions/redesigning how I relate to people/learning to listen/learning to trust myself.



Sherbet skies of pepto pink, cotton candy blue, and gauzey lavender make volley ball courts covered in red dirt light up. Incandescent suns and Ready To Take The Stage moons occupy our surreal canopy. It's my serve, but my back is to the net and I'm sheilding my eyes from the orange burning through the trees. Taylor's trying to get my attention and Oamjie is asking me Where are you? I turn around slowly and hurriedly hit the ball and turn around again. I haven't seen anything like it. The whole court is lit up.. my skin gives off a pink glow and you can barely see. The guys from the village are getting more comfortable around us and there's an exchange of Kannada and English that no one understands. I helped a boy up from the bushes today when he fell, Lauren talks smack with Kerapa, Taylor fake spikes him too. We move easier around them now, laugh a little louder. There is no other way I would want to end my day and I look out at the court and know I'm going to cry about these boys later and miss them. I'm going to come back here in my mind a lot in my life: a court glowing pink, kids playing into the night, "See you"s yelled back from across the fence after they've headed home.
I wonder if it's as clear as it should be ... that I love it here. That while the independence is scary, it's so so welcomed.

Self Explanatory.


> from Kate Brown on Feb. 3rd
>> I am writing to excuse myself for not consulting with you first
>> about doing an independent study with Ruma. I would have waited
>> until next semester to do this with her if I had not just found out
>> a couple of weeks ago that I will be 11 credits short of graduating
>> next Spring even if I take two full course loads for both Fall and
>> Spring. It's imperative that I get done with school as soon as
>> possible for personal reasons.. With an independent study done this
>> semester I would only need to take two extra classes. Doing it this
>> semester is also important because it's the last time I'll be able
>> to take 19 credits before the curriculum change. It was my
>> understanding that an Independent Study is done independently and
>> that it would be my responsibility to complete the Fireflies course
>> work as well as some more. I can handle that responsibility. Please
>> explain this policy to me because I think it is unfair for a person
>> in my situation.


- Kate


your situation is that you are on an overwhelmingly complicated study
abroad that takes all your attention all the time.

This IS the policy and Rumu explains below she told you to consult
with me about any additional independent study .
> What needs to be explained is your presumption that you can act on
your own without any responsible consultation.

trent schroyer

written my Sunday morning-
Trent,

I did not write that email to engage in a tete a tete with you. I would like you to email me a copy of this policy and cite where it is written down on paper.
I do not believe that you know or will ever know me well enough to tell me what I can and cannot handle or what I will be overwhelmed with.

I do not feel the need to explain myself any further about why I did not consult with you. I already apologized. I don't think it is very mature of either of us to continue in that strain of communication.

-Kate



So, now, because of the childish attitudes of Ramapo faculty, I am screwed. 11 (instead of just 8 after the ind. study) credits needed for me to graduate even after I take two full course loads next year.
I can't even write, I'm too pissed off. What part of INDEPENDENT study don't these people understand?

I wrote this in an email yesterday and realized how true it is..

Our lives here (the ashram) seem so small even though we are encountering something so big.

What does my life consist of now ...

Hours spent in lectures. I kick my feet really hard under the table, I play with my hair, I drew a face on my hand and made it talk yesterday, and I also ask questions and take notes which are getting more decipherable.

Hours spent on the volley ball court; which is a big square patch of dirt - one side's Out line is a little path. Sometimes while we're playing the ashram's cows will have to be led up it and we have to stop the game. Boys from the village come and play and they're getting bigger in number. Last night there were definitely as many as us. There is one guy who comes every day and he's phenomenal. I'm getting quite phenomenal myself. I needed some time to get over my fear of the ball. It's been awhile since I've played. The staff plays too. Raku (Siddrhama's brother) played last night and one of these days I swear I'll get Raja in there. I like them all so much. Hirjo is able to communicate with them somehow. Two days ago he was actually behind the food table and serving us.. very seriously, but he's really funny. Last night we played from 4:30 to 7; only stopping because Infinite broke one of the cords holding the net up in his excitement and then the power went out so the light we were fixing it by did too.

Hours spent in the computer lab. Not all at the same time and sometimes not all in one day, but hours still. Hours spent connecting back to home somehow. Mostly I come in the mornings because I wake up around 6:30 or 7 a.m. and there's nothing else to do - plus there's a bigger possibility of getting mail then since my night is Jersey's day. At night John is in here and sometimes it's just us. He listens to his headphones and here and there we'll talk about little things. Last night it was me and Malika. Maybe being in front of a box with pixel representations of home are in front of you, you might open up more about home. Actually, yes. If I get a good email I'll tell the person next to me and they won't care that much, but five minutes later they'll be making "aww" or "haha" sounds while reading their email. I don't like it in here, but I like it because I enjoy watching everyone and seeing the difference... A little nicer if you get mail, crabby if you can't get online, and there's sometimes a disappointed shuffle out the door if a mom didn't write back or there was one time when someone couldn't find out what was happening on their favorite show.

And communication beyond a computer lab. Time I spend finding different ways than an email or a piece of paper with my writing on it to express how I feel. (ha, i know you're reading this too...) So that is why I sent a package, am starting to keep an eye out for postcards, try to include a picture in some of my letters. I know how important it is for me to hear from others .. and I think it's essential that others hear from me.

The people here.. the people who live/work/stay here. Even the visitors who come to hold conferences here. Yesterday we got stood up for yoga, but it put us right by the main eating hall where CRI (children's relief of india or something) is holding a meeting. A man came up to us and said. "Tell me something about America. Why is Bush killing so many children?" Fuck, right? Infinite said "Because he's a terrorist" and ding ding ding that was the right answer. The man said he knows not all Americans like Bush, but what has to happen for them to do something about it? Different things were said, my contribution was something about how the Working Poor in America is kept numb b/c they're so busy trying to feed their kids and shelter themselves it's hard to find time to take on such a big cause. And, goddammit, it's so overwhelming and frightening.

My life consists of food, too. I can't ignore it since it's having such a major effect on all of us... Well, not all, but two or three have fallen ill and we won't get into me.. It's good, it's delicious, it's buffet style. Ha. We had ragi bread for breakfast yesterday. I dipped mine in chutney and then I fell in love. soo good.

Hours spent sleeping and dreaming dreams that either make my stomach hurt or leave me feeling a little empty. They're so vivid. I am always tired around 10:30 at night and get up around 7 the next day. I try sleeping later, but I keep waking up earlier. Omjee teases us sometimes if we can't stay up for singing, but I usually force myself to. I refuse to let my waking up habits (which then lead to my day being really long) get in the way of my new favorite thing to do.

So that brings me to singing. I've found my voice. I've sang in front of some of the guest lecturers if they stay overnight, miscellaneous friends of the staff, and the staff itself.. and everyone who lives with me. Caroline asked me if I would like to participate in one of her art projects ... She has masks she's made of Earth Wind Fire Water and she asked if I would put one on and .. i don't know... there's a show going on or something. So I said Yes! and She asked which one I wanted to be. Without hesitation:: Earth.

Hours spent in bumpy car rides to places I'll never forget. People standing on the side of roads.. women with bundles of wood on their heads, men riding bicycles and managing to put things on them I would never believe. Kids screaming HI!!! Dogs in the middle of roads, big bulls on the side of Bangalore's city streets finding whatever blades of grass they can. Women on mopeds and men holding on to them from behind. Big buses pulling up alongside our car and the men staring down at us; me making sure my skirts covers my knees and double checking to see how much, if any, of my chest is showing - the last only happening if I have a tank top on and I only brought 1 here. Nevertheless, being looked at has become part of the routine. I've gotten used to the idea that it's not because they think I'm attractive, it's because I'm white and that's weird. Honestly, going back home is going to be a little bizarre because I'll be hyper sensitive to how many white people will be around. Hmm.. if I sound crazy, forgive me .. or understand.

And these are the things which make up my life here and there will always be the things and people which make up my life at home. It's hard to incorporate the idea into this entry, but I'm assuming it is understood - That every day and every minute of that day my heart is occupied by my love, my close friends, and my mother... and my bike. (Taylor has the Queen song Bicycle and it makes me miss my own and demetrius all at the same time. double whammy.)

Malika is leaving for Jersey tonight. Again, I'll say it ... It seems unnatural that she's going. It's not right. We're supposed to all stay here and no one is supposed to go and she's amazing. Malika will be back in a week, but I'm being selfish right now and pouting a little that I have to add one more person on the list of people I need around me. When one of us is missing from a class or meal.. it's felt. For only being together for a month... we've become so close.

Hmm today I am buying a crazy big phone card. Sunday is a volley ball tournament/marathon.

Thinking about home the other day I realized that even though I miss it, I might be missing a home that's not there anymore.I'll be looking at it differently which instantly makes it a different place. I'm missing the home I knew before I left, but looking forward to what it's going to look like .. with some apprehension, but mostly a smile.
I've made some plans already. I'll have a couch to stay on at Bethany and Jenai's apartment in the village (on campus housing, for those non ramapo people who just got jealous that i'd be staying the NYC village.. which i'm not -sigh-) I spoke to Melanie online last night and I might see her this summer. She's been away for a semester, I'm away now .. I think that if we spoke about it I would have a little more to say. I find myself wanting to talk to anyone who's travelled outside of the country for this long. I was glad to speak with her because she is someone who definitely should be a friend and I think we're both extremely okay with that seeing as how we are both extremely in love with our partners.
My cousin Dana invited me to visit her in Brooklynn where she is now shacking up with her boyfriend. There's a guest bedroom and everything. She missed me at Christmas and just found out two days ago I am in India. Figures. She wants me to meet ... uh I forget his name, and was disappointed she never me Demetrius. We'll see what happens, but I'd love to haul him over to Brooklynn one sticky summer day.. or one cool Fall evening, or some frigid frosty winter's night, or one perfume scented, earth blossoming spring afternoon.