The one where I blow things up

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It’s been a whirlwind week. Between working and school work, bouts of the runs and fevers, cleaning, and trying to find my kitten (he ran away for two days), I’m glad for the long weekend. Dad, I know you’re reading these since you’re a rock star and subscribed to my blog, so don’t worry, I don’t have malaria. Also, my iPod blew up. As an aside, let me just say that iPod’s generally blow. They break, and then you can’t fix them, and if you’re outside your warrantee, you’re screwed. I plugged it into the wall (with out a power converter…whoops), got a few shocks, and then it was dead. The shocks weren’t as bad as the time my desktop blew up. It was making weird noises and sending funny signals, so like a dumb ass; I crawled under my desk and unplugged it. Then I was shot across the room from the shock and found myself in a pool of my own urine. Don’t cry over things that can’t over you, that’s my motto.

Monday, February 18 was Independence Day for The Gambia, so naturally we had a public holiday. Public holidays here happen like snow days in the Antarctic. Sometimes they can be called the day of, and most people are confused as to the occasion. It’s pretty bitchin’ though, as work is most often closed, schools are closed, and public transportation can be limited. Basically it is an excuse to sit home or at the beach and read or fart around on the computer. Like I’m doing right now. I love lying on my sponge (my mattress) under my mosquito netting, with some Fleetwood Mac going and my electronic thought processor in front of me. Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors may be one of the greatest albums of all time. Think about it, listen to it, read about it, and then you will see the light.

Anxiety has been gripping me lately. Almost like paralysis. I’m sure in some part is has to do with being so far from home, missing my family, not being able to talk to them much, and wondering what is going on. I enjoy having full control, which is a rarity in life as we all know. And when I feel like things are out of my control, I tend to carry the weight of anxiety on my body like heavy bags of sand. I can feel it physically pushing down on my shoulders. So I started reading my housemate’s book “Feel the fear and do it anyway!” Yes, it’s a self help book. And yes, it is awesome as most pop-psychology books are. Of course, “Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus” is among my favorites. What’s more exciting about that book, is that the author, who knew everything about how to understand the other in a relationship, and told us how to do it, got divorced. Co-incky-dink? I think not. It’s one thing to get a divorce; it’s another to make millions off of instructing people how to avoid it, and THEN getting one. Anyway, I began to read. “We seem to be taking the arduous route over the mountain carrying two suitcases and a watermelon rather than flying on the wings of eagles,” says Susan Jeffers, author of the book. It’s really true. Why do people want to seem “altogether” all the time, when under their smiles and politeness, they are carrying a ton of bricks? Anxiety and stress are the things of life man, let’s all cope with it together! In the immortal words of John Lennon, “Nobody told me there would be days like these. Strange days indeed”.

Speaking of strange days, some guy in the corner store caressed my face today while I was buying toilet paper. It was a little queer. Generally I get gawked at on a regular basis, and I can take that because I have learned the fine art of tuning them out. However, when someone touches me, especially my face, it is just too much. I have to step away slowly, before I end up swatting somebody. There really is no personal bubble here. Which is ok with me, I can talk to people close and sit close to them on the bush taxis, but when someone PURPOSELY touches me in a creepy way, it’s just over man.

Quote of the post:
“No one is the savior they would like to be.” Iron and Wine (Love Song of The Buzzard)

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