Traveler's dilemma

As I was sitting on beautiful Ipanema beach in Rio just a few days earlier, my peaceful reverie was broken by some noise coming from Av. Vieira Souto, the road closest to the beach. I couldn't quite tell from my vantage point, but squinting to get a better look, I saw at least 30 teenagers with picket signs. I saw half of one sign, which read "DEN---" and what appeared to be some kind of insect on another. Doing a bit of medical calculation, I arrived at the strange conclusion that this had to to with dengue. Not understanding much more and watching the protesters leave, I returned my attention to the beach.

It was only about five days later, on the bus ride back from Barra da Tijuca, one of the largest shopping districts in Rio, did I understand what was going on. My girlfriend and I, in our confused state over Rio's bus system, caught the attention of a beautiful Brasilian woman, who we later learned was visiting her sister in Rio from the most southern part of Brasil, close to Uruguay. After leading us to bus # 175, she advised us to be on our guard about the dengue epidemic in Brasil. Dengue epidemic??? Why hadn't anyone warned us? Stupid Americans. She gave us a few tips about hydration and bug spray and told us not to worry, and that we would probably be fine, which we are, so far.

After I returned home to New York, I've been doing a little more research about the situation in Brasil. As an aside, I had a boyfriend in college who was a bit of an adventurer. He traveled a lot, but unlike many Americans (myself included) traveling was not necessarily a vacation for him. He seemed to remain aware at all times about the impact of tourism on a place. He stayed away from local tourist traps, preferring instead to take the less beaten (and probably more dangerous and uncomfortable) path, with his small backpack and camera. I really admired him for how much respect he maintained as a tourist, and from him I learned to always question the beauty and polish of a place and to realize that everything has its price. The beauty of one area is just the other face of the extreme poverty afflicting another.

Anyway, back to my story. I probably don't need to tell you that Brasil is a very poor country. I happened to see some of it firsthand from the comfort of an air-conditioned bus. The landscape of Rio de Janeiro city is dotted with close to 700 favelas, or the Brasilian equivalents of shantytowns. Barefoot street kids are a common sight, often traveling in groups of three and sleeping in the dirty roads. I had to look twice at some of them and often paused to catch my breath. The sight is truly heartbreaking, reminiscent of hard lessons I learned during my childhood summers in India.

Right now, the Caxias community of Rio is getting hit very hard by the dengue epidemic. Compounding the strong presence of the disease are the limitations posed by its high crime rate and extreme poverty. In this city, where I soon learned even private medicine is unable to meet the demands for medical care, it seems improbable that these people are going to receive the care they desperately need and, quite rightly, deserve. What's even more sad is that the treatment of dengue does not require fancy, hard-to-get medications - it is mainly supportive, requiring extreme hydration and antipyretics (medications to lower fever, excepting aspirin).

I often feel guilty as a traveler. I saw two communities in Brasil that made up the richest percentage of the country's population, and what did I do? I damn well enjoyed it. I loved the cleanliness of Rua Oscar de Freire in Sao Paulo and the modern, beachy architecture of Ipanema. They were a sight for my bored eyes. At the same time, it seems so silly and superficial to like a place when all that the beauty translates to is more money. It is my traveler's dilemma and I will probably take the guilt with me wherever I go. I think that the best I can do is to minimize my ecologic footprint as much as I can. Walk when possible, car pool if necessary, and waste as little as I can - try to leave the place as I arrived in it.

I'm a'tumblrin

Check out my new tumblelog!

I will be posting longer posts here but in the meantime, I'll be over there!

http://littlepinky.tumblr.com

My old friend

You weren't expecting that, were you? Well, it's true. Prozac is an old friend of mine. We first became acquainted during my junior year of college and were friends for about 6 months. I broke it off amicably (I can only speak for myself). Although we have not seen each other since, I have no hard feelings and actually credit Prozac for teaching me some of the hardest lessons of my life. So, as I would also say to some old boyfriends (but only in retrospect), thanks.

Why am I telling any of you this? Well, truthfully, I don't know. I started blogging again because I love to write. Someday, I would like to write fiction, maybe something short and eventually something long. To be a good writer, in my opinion, one needs to be honest and open. This blog is my exercise in openness. I always hold back on paper. I don't want to give everything away, perhaps because there isn't much to give away. Do you ever have that feeling? That whatever mystery you have can be divulged with a shot of tequila and a double-spaced-Courier-font-size-12-with-2"-margins page? Or perhaps I'm afraid people will see me for the neurotic, bipolar, emotional pessimist that I truly am.

I don't know. I am having one of those days I knew would come. Like migraines, my mood swings come with auras, except that my aura is the memory of predictable, practiced unhappiness. I was happy on Monday but I bet 5 bucks that the feeling wouldn't last more than 36 hours. Because it never does. I owe myself 5 bucks. Nah. Don't waste your pity on me. I'll be back in good spirits probably by tomorrow.

So what gives? Do I need to get on a mood stabilizer again? I think the main reason I started Prozac to begin with was because my sadness wasn't circumstantial. I was just inexplicably sad. I cried a lot, I slept a lot, and I couldn't stop eating. I gained about 10 lbs, which people find very hard to believe, but it's true. I was fat (which came first, fatness or sadness?....good question). I felt lonely and undeserving, which I still occasionally feel now. I'm waiting for God to strike me down for continuing to forget my good fortune.

Anyway, this leads me to my next thought, which is that perhaps my moodiness is due to circumstances, hence my unwillingness to get back on Prozac. I think, well actually, I know that this is an accurate assessment. I'm pretty anxious nowadays. On January 17 I will find out where I will be spending 3 out of the next 4 years of my life. While this exciting, it's also very scary, as you can imagine. And yes. I'm kinda lonely. Being single has its fun moments, but I wouldn't mind finding someone who is absolutely crazy about me, and more importantly, someone I am crazy about. I don't want to settle, which I have a tendency to do when these moods set in. I recklessly try to fill that void with the excitement and unknown of a boy, who is neither that unknowable nor exciting. It all comes down to what you can convince yourself of. My sister tells me that smart people are the best rationalizers. She is right. We (YES, WE) allow ourselves to get away with all kinds of bad behavior.

Anyway, what was I talking about? I forget. But I feel better now. Maybe blogging is the new Prozac.

Things change (but basically they stay the same).

For those of you keeping (close) track of my life, you'll notice that the picture on the left looks familiar. That's because it was taken about 9 months ago when I still had my drinking problem. Karin thinks double-fisting is an improvement on triple-fisting, but she doesn't know that if someone had bought me a third drink, it would have certainly made the picture.

So in all seriousness, I picked the title of this blog based on this series of pictures, but it also happens to work very well with recent events in my life. The picture on the right was taken on Friday night at my birthday party. Since I do not have social gatherings (or birthdays) very often, I invited just about anyone I knew who would: a) come; b) not ruin the party. So you can imagine that it was an eclectic bunch of people, picked from many different times in my life. And, I'm happy to say, I still like all these people and no one ruined the party. I caught up with a lot of old friends and one old "more than friend" this weekend. I've done a lot of thinking, therefore, about moving on, fresh starts, the past, and what is yet to come.

I used to be so afraid of the future. Of course it still scares me a little, but somehow I have been able to let go of a lot of the anxiety that I used to hold for the unknown. Many people I know are able to do this at a very young age, and I think the common denominator for these people is faith. Now, I don't believe in God. I'm not even spiritual, whatever that REALLY means. I inherited this trait from my mom, who lives by her good deeds. I was, however, raised Catholic. I received communion but didn't make it to Confirmation. My parents got lazy, and frankly, I thank them for it. I never felt at place in church. It either speaks to you or it doesn't. You either buy it, or you don't. Even at the impressionable younge age of 4, I just didn't buy it.

I realize that when you don't have faith, you lack a very important coping mechanism. When bad things happened, I immediately internalized. I never attributed my misfortunes to fate or God's bigger picture. By internalizing, you actually beat yourself up quite a bit. You never stop seeing things as your fault. This actually hasn't changed that much, except that I don't beat myself up anymore. Because I'm not anyone's or my own punching bag. And seriously, whatever it is, it's probably not such a big deal anyway.

So anyway, back to my original point. As I've gotten older, I've been able to let go of my anxiety and it's been truly liberating. My academic life has been so well planned out that I thought my personal life had to be the same way. Well, it doesn't. WHO KNEW?? I'm very excited and feel very fortunate to have made this realization before I was tied down to a life that somehow just happened to me. I feel that there is more left for me to do as an individual and I'm finally acquiring the means, both financial and emotional, to do it all. And while my idea of "ideal life" may not be shared by anyone else, I'm still in love with it. Because I finally don't care what you think :oP

Mommy's back!

Wow. I really missed my mom and my brother and I'm very happy that they are back from India (with goodies). In all truth, I haven't seen Roey awake yet. The kid is seriously jet-lagged and keeps disappearing to a new bed every time he is (forcibly) woken.

I have very good news. I have just been fed dal, rice, and chutney by my mom, who for some reason felt extremely guilty for leaving me alone in the house with an empty fridge so she promptly whipped up some dinner. YUM! She never really feels guilty for not cooking so I'm not sure what gives. Dare I speculate that she missed me?? Could be.

She also brought me new accessories including evening bags and jewels. Have a look at my new bags. Aren't they beautiful?!

Well hopefully, I'll have something to wear them to in the near future (hint - if some very lucky guy needs a dinner date to a fancy party or just wants to date someone, I'm your girl).

Okay, time for a second round of dinner. Don't be jealous, just be happy for me ;0)

Happenings at 328 West Ivy Hill

This is where I live. Well, not really. I don't actually live on the golf course but this is the view from my porch as taken at 7:45 this morning. Sometimes I wonder if a view like this can be real. It's even more breathtaking in person. Doesn't it seem straight out of Anne of Green Gables? Too bad I've never been able to frolic on the grass to complete the daydream. What you can't see is the "no trespassing" sign somewhere over there.

Last night, Thales was a bit restless and I couldn't figure out why. He had been fed and walked, and he pooped and peed, but he just kept whining. I relented and gave him Binky, which worked to calm him down. Isn't this just the cutest thing ever?

Well apparently, if you're Thales, this is what you do to things you love.

I knew it was a bad idea but eh, whatever. He had fun for about two minutes. Funeral services were held this morning for Binky the bear. He now lies in the trash at the back of the house.

You ain't got no alibi

Yesterday, I spontaneously (eh, eh? you like my choice of word here?) went over to my friend Rishi's apartment for Thanksgiving since my family members were either in India or in a hospital (not sick, just working). After stuffing ourselves with a Whole Foods pre-prepared Thanksgiving meal (delicious, by the way) we all drank some ugly juice. Okay, okay. So there is no such thing, but we did have a little fun with Rishi's mac, which has a camera that worsens one's good and bad features. It's a very egalitarian camera. This sounds noble in theory, but in practice is just plain hideous. Behold, our portraits. Warning: Prepare yourself for FUGLINESS. Some of these pictures are best seen on an empty stomach.

In other news, I would also like to report that I went running today, which effectively absolves not only yesterday's sinful eating, but that which will undoubtedly ensue in the coming hours. FYI. Also, I am officially addicted to guitar hero. I am going to ask Roey to ask mom to buy it for us. If you haven't tried it, maybe you shouldn't. I'm not sure you will be able to handle the extreme heroicism you'll ultimately attain. I couldn't. And I save lives. Everyday. This is if you count buying yourself shoes that you "just can't live without" as saving a life. Which I do.