Letting the ball drop.

It's been a few weeks, and things have not improved. I'd really like a do-over on this entire year.

I am not okay. I'm not acting like myself at all. I don't feel like me.

I'm still jobless. Still essentially homeless. My car still needs work, which doesn't much matter, as I have nothing for gas. I feel so trapped. At this point I'm debating whether I should pay rent for next month, or just pack up and drive off somewhere and just see how far Stew will get me before he breaks down or we run out of gas.

I'm so loaded down with stress and sorrow that I can't breathe.

And no, I don't want to talk to you about it. I don't want to hear another person say that they wished they could help. I don't want help. I just want to be able to say that I am not okay. I'm tired of lying about it.

As a result, I'm letting the ball drop on a number of things because I lack the ability to do anything about them and I lack the desire to fight. I'm too tired and I can't breathe and there's nothing I can do about any of it anyway.

Screwed With My Pants On

Oh BYU, seriously? SERIOUSLY???

Here's the deal: I've been unemployed since April. Not a problem, because I ended up in India on scholarship with no expenses. Buuut, BYU was still charging me for health insurance, even though I had better insurance through my sponsoring organization.

Still, they put my account on hold for non-payment.

Fine. My loans are coming in soon, right?

Right?

I did my part 3 1/2 weeks ago. Someone at the bank just has to hit "enter" and my problems will go away.

Cause I also have to add one class.

And my application for full-time status needs to be processed. Which can't happen until after I've added the class. Which can't happen until the loans process.

So, we've just been waiting on the loans. Last week, FinAid office at BYU assured me that I've done everything I'm supposed to do. And they've done everything THEY'RE supposed to do. And that we were just waiting on the bank.

Right.

So, today I got an email from my department secretary. She'd gotten an email from student employment services saying that she'd have to terminate my job because I'm not enrolled in any classes. Seriously.

Which means that the idiots in charge who last week told me that everything would be fine went and deleted my classes for nonpayment of tuition...

So my classes are deleted. BUT the bank processed the loans today. So there's ANOTHER hold on my account, because they got their damn money today and have no idea WHAT THE FUCK to do with it!

SERIOUSLY???

So, I'm without credit hours, without loans, and apparently being fired from my job.

Fuck my life.

So, it's been a while....

I've realized that I haven't posted a blog in a month. Well done me. I'm home now, and adjusting to jet lag, culture shock, and a western wardrobe. As India was full of food I can't eat, I lost 20 pounds while I was there. Lucky for me, I have, as I think all women in the world do, a fat wardrobe and a skinny wardrobe. I am currently in my (relatively) skinny wardrobe. I am about where I was my Junior year in college, I think. It's been a while, thanks to my pesky digestive disorder.

It's nice being able to eat again. I have insulin intolerance and am not supposed to eat anything that will make my body produce insulin. The problem with that is that ever meal in India is bread, rice, potato, and legume. I am not supposed to consume any of these things, and so lost 2 lbs per week. Sure.

Concerning my Verbal Prowess.

Or not.

When I was first learning how to read and speak Punjabi, we were given a list of questions to ask each other. One of them was "Are you a vegetarian or a non-vegetarian?" I am non-veg. Of course. Those who know about my ridiculous dietary restrictions would laugh out loud if I said I was giving up meat, as it's one of about 3 things I CAN eat.

Anyway, someone asked me this question... I think it was my Auntie-Ji. The word for non-vegetarian is "masahari." Masa means flesh. Hari is eater. I replied to her question that I was a "masihari." A Masi is your mother's sister.

I am an Aunt-eater.

Bwahahaha!!!

Growing Together.

We're taking this week off of classes, in light of our loss. Yesterday we went to Gurudwara and then went to the rose garden in town and played together at the park there. We taught our teachers how to play Duck Duck Goose and the Down by the Banks game. We played on the swings and the see-saw and had a good time being together.

Today, we're going to the rock garden. Tomorrow we're taking an overnight trip into the mountains to a Gurudwara that Ajeet had wanted to visit. Friday night we're going to a Punjabi comedy show, and on Saturday we're going to a sitar concert, or something like that. We're keeping ourselves busy and together. It'll be good.

Concerning the Cobra.

So, I neglected to write about a really unique experience that I had while on the long, horrible train to Varanasi. Trains in India are not like trains in the US. First class India would be well below the American cheap seats. And then they have cheap seats...and standing room only. Ewww.

Anyway, another interesting difference is that there are always people walking up and down the aisles of the train, some selling tea or chips, many people begging for a few rupees, handicapped people, etc. The train is a busy, busy place.

When I was travelling through Uttar Pradesh, which is a state generally looked down upon by people from other states, I had a most unique and un-Punjab like experience. A man walked down the train playing some sort of instrument. It looked to be made of natural products, perhaps a gourd or something. He stopped near my seat and sat down and played for a little while. After a few minutes, he pulled out this basket for tips to go into. And that is what you were supposed to do.... except there wasn't only money in that basket.

Oh no.

The man lifted off the top of the basket and a flared, hissing cobra popped up. And THEN the man pushed the basket RIGHT UP TO MY FACE waiting for his tip! And THEN it LOOKED AT ME!!!!! AAAAHHHHH!!!!!

I started sputtering trying to get him to take the snake AWAY FROM MY FACE.

dzaw ji! nehi ji! dzaw ji!

Please go away!!!!

Upon Reflection.

So, a while ago, I wrote a blog about how fun it was to fear for one's life in a speeding rickshaw. After the events of today, I fear that it was in incredibly bad taste. One of my classmates, Ajeet, was killed in a rickshaw accident this morning on the way to school. Or yesterday. The details are not clear to me yet. He was tall and thin and had kind, sparkly, crinkly eyes and a warm smile.