I cracked and went to the doctor yesterday. I could not walk more than a few steps at a time and Gopi gave me a ride on his motorbike. I got off it clumsily when we got to the doctor's because it was my first time and I've heard stories of people burning themselves on the exhaust pipe.
The doctor gave me some medicine and a handshake for my troubles. The former is the reason for the improvement on my health this morning and the latter, was good. I love a good handshake. With a smile. Close lipped. No teeth necessarily.
I have finished my book of short stories by W. Somerset Maugham and am now working on The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy. Started yesterday and half way done. Old comforts seem to be coming back to me. Reading for pleasure, making postcards, and decorating letters I send out. The postcard made last night leaves a lot to be desired, but I was glad it got done simply because I have lacked a creative flare for over a month now.
I must say part of my inspiration last night was due to Bethany and Jenai's package I received. There were collages in there!! Wonderful. Mm and a Patsy Cline cd and some fair trade dark chocolate. Who's better than me, eh? Very good. Smiles all around.

Katy announced last night that we have completed ten weeks here and it is just five more until we leave.
Observation::
The attitude among some here seems to be one of contempt for where they come from. From the states, from their rich towns, from their ideologies formerly practiced. I do not hate where I come from. I am proud. Maybe that's why I'm not as reluctant to go back. I see in their eyes a fear that they might return to their way of thinking before it was so radically changed by coming here or just that.. they will forget. My lifestyle at home in no large way resembles the one we learn about as what is the perceived American way. In fact, that can probably be said for a good portion of the people here. My thoughts on this can only be said with certainty when addressing my own position.

I will say I'm not content with what my mother has to go through, what the kids in my town can be trapped in to. But this is more the reason to go back. To try and do something even though I have no idea where to do it and how. Maybe I am just talking idealistic nonsense, but I suppose things would be a lot worse if there weren't enough idealistic college kids running around. The cynicism attached to the title is one given by people who could not achieve their goals.

Every heart is a revolutionary cell and all that. hmph.