I’m back on the grid… fuck yeah!!!
Today marks the start of the fourth week of my stay in southern India and to celebrate, I spent the afternoon chowing down on a chicken burger, fries, and a huge slice of apple pie from one of the few places in Bangalore that sells American food and trying to get through to an internet call center to finally set up my internet.
After weeks of trying to write (and failing miserably) in a tiny, sweaty cubicle at a local internet cafe, I couldn’t take anymore and dedicated the past three hours to getting back on the grid. And thank God I did! I didn’t realize how much I missed this blog until I started reading all the amazing comments people have left me over the past couple weeks. You guys are seriously awesome!!
I also knew I needed to get back here ASAP when, not only did the dreams about my ex come back, but I found myself fantasizing about being chained to his bed (no, we’ve never done that in real life in case you’re wondering) during my international social work class today.
One would think that with an ocean, a continent, and a 12 and a half hour time difference between us, he wouldn’t even pop into my head, but even here, he seems to permeate my dreams, awake and otherwise.
In the past three weeks, I have learned to squat and pee over a hole sans toilet paper, swam in the Indian Ocean, learned to ride a moped and found Indian food that is tame enough for me to tolerate. But even while looking at the sun set over the Bay of Bengal and playing with the kids in the nearby slums, he’s there. He doesn’t go away and it’s fucking annoying.
I think to myself as I discover a banjo made out of whittled sticks and half a coconut that my ex would find this hilarious. I smile and picture him sitting next to me on a boat off the coast of Pondicherry. He even pops into my head as I’m squatting in a tiny concrete shack and peeing on the ground, smiling smugly and mentally proving his opinion that I am high maintenance to be wrong.
I thought that India would make it better. It would be a big ass band-aid that would stretch from the western coast of the US all the way to Bangalore, India’s Silicon Valley. But nowadays with computers and Skype at our fingertips, all I have to do is log onto my laptop to be reminded of him. So maybe, just for today, it’s good that India’s internet is so insanely sketchy. Maybe if I’m lucky, while I’m staring at my Skype list, looking at the little green checkmark next to his initials indicating he’s online, the Hindu gods will take pity and blow that fucking internet connection out.
Maybe if I’m lucky, the screen will go blank and I can remind myself that he is a million miles away and that is exactly where he belongs.
