So the day after tomorrow, I’ve got to go to another city which is a twelve hour drive away from here, for my dad’s college reunion- the second one I’m attending. His classmates are pretty nice, and I like most of the ones I know; but I am really not good at social interaction in any form, and some of the kids just aren’t as nice as their parents, and therefore I am definitely not looking forward to this. Last time I went, I had to make up a rather unflattering nickname for one of the kids to keep myself from losing it and/or clocking her while being repeatedly insulted by her. I’ve stocked up on the medicine that I had to use during my exams to calm my nerves, because I’m pretty sure I’ll be needing it. To make things worse, the college that my dad went to is my absolute dream place, to which I happen to have just about no chance of making it unless there is a true miracle. Going there is unlikely to make me feel anywhere in the vicinity of happy. This time, the reunion is for five days, which is even longer than last time. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to make it through.
Yesterday, my parents, my sister and I went to visit the lady who used to be our nanny when my sister and I were little. Her son is getting married next week and we won’t be able to attend the wedding, so we wanted to go and see her family before that.
They live near the sea, and the lady’s husband is a fisherman. There’s a big granite wall that separates the sea from all the houses in that area, and the whole place smells deliciously of salt water and the beach. When we were leaving, her husband was walking us to the end of the lane, and he asked if we wanted to see the ocean. So we said yes, of course, and he showed us how to climb up to stand on top of the wall. It was amazing. I’ve never seen the sea from so high up, yet so close.We could see tiny crabs running away from the waves, and ships on the horizon. There was no sand, just a few feet of mossy rocks between us and the sea, and I felt so magnificently alive.
Ok, don’t yell at me. I lied- it wasn’t really me who won the lottery, but that sounds better than “Someone I sort of know just won the lottery”. This is a tough field, people. You’ve got to do what it takes.
So. Today, the gardener/night watchman/everything-in-between-person at my grandparents’ house won the lottery (yes, they have a night watchman. My grandmother is seriously paranoid about the house being robbed). Admittedly, it was only 500 rupees that he won, and the amount the guy has spent on tickets to date probably amounts to about 5000 rupees, but still, it’s probably an amazing feeling to have won something. Personally, I have the worst luck in the world, when it comes to raffles, the lottery or anything of the sort. I’ve never won so much as a teddy bear in a school raffle. But I had written a diary entry just about a month ago about how I loved the fact that people maintained enough hope to keep buying lottery tickets even if they’d never won anything at all; and I am happy that all that hoping paid off.
Today, I fell in love with a song the very first time I heard it. I love it when that happens- realising that a song says so many things you’ve never been able to say, and suddenly having the perfect way to say all those things; or finding that it speaks of exactly the thing you’re dealing with, when you’re confused, and feel alone and lost,and the song tells you that you’re not really doing such a bad job. I usually listen to the same songs, over and over again, because its so hard to find the kind of song I like when I don’t even know what kind that is. But sometimes, in a movie, on a TV show, or on the radio, or even over the speakers in a store, I find something perfect. And I go home, and look it up, and listen to it for ages, till I know it almost off by heart. Those times are really worth the wait.
Sorry about posting all this in one go, I’ve just got a lot that I’ve been storing up in my head for a while.
A few days ago, I was going up with my mum to her dental clinic, and we passed some construction workers. One of them was reciting poetry for the rest while they worked. It was in Malayalam (which is the native language in Kerala, where I live), and therefore almost impossible for me to understand, since although I speak the language decently, the poetry is usually in an older style, and difficult for me to make sense of unless it’s written down, and I can go through it (very) slowly with a dictionary/translator. Nevertheless, it’s beautiful to hear, with rhythm and sounds that make it sound like music even if it’s not sung (it sometimes is). I loved that someone could make a job like that into a work of art, and the fact sort of buoyed me up throughout the day. I like to call this the everyday miracle. The term isn’t strictly defined, it’s really just anything that makes me feel the way this did. It doesn’t have to be unusual. It really can be anything. I’m trying to teach myself to see more of them, because I think we miss so many wonderful things; things we really need to keep our hopes up in these strange lives of ours.
I hope that other people see them too, and share them. If you find one, tell me. I’d really love to hear it.
Yesterday, I went to visit my great uncle. He’s got two grandchildren, who I really think are the cutest kids I’ve ever seen. I’m usually pretty awful at social interaction with people I don’t know inside out, so I wasn’t very happy about being dragged along for this visit by my grandmother, and gave her a condition before we left, which was that we had to leave as soon as I signalled to her. In the end, though, it turned out to be me who made us stay longer, because I had so much fun playing with those kids. I have pretty much sucked at playing with children all my life, even when I was little myself; I never really understood the concept, and preferred the games I made up in my head. And even now we’re older, my sister is the one who has the magnetic pull over children,while I’m always too shy to play with them, at least in front of other older people. But this time, my sister wasn’t with me, and these two were far too cute to stay away from. So I played with them. And it turned out to be really, really fun.
One thing I really loved was that the little boy played with a paper plane. This family is pretty rich; a good sight better off than mine, at least, which is just average. And they’ve got tons of toys- rockets, talking animals,everything- and they love all of these, but the kids still play with the paper plane their granddad made for them, and I really love that they do.
I’m Joanna. I’m waiting for the results to an exam which will determine my life for the next year, and in which I performed very badly. I’ve got about three weeks left to wait, and I’m desperately looking for a way to preserve any sanity I have at this point, which is why I’m writing this. I don’t know what this will be, or if it will be anything at all. I know that no one is reading this, but I prefer to pretend that someone is listening. So that’s what I’ll do.
The name of this blog is a reference to medical college, which is what the exam I told you about was for. It was an entrance exam, to try to get into one. I thought of the name while I was daydreaming when I was supposed to be studying,and I’ve kept it even though the exam went awfully, and it doesn’t look very likely that I’ll even make it to a college, at least not this year. I’ve kept it partly because it sounds hopeful (at least, that’s my excuse), but mostly because I couldn’t think of any other name that sounded even mildly interesting.
I honestly have no idea how this will turn out. Your guess is as good as mine. If you’re here, my advice is, just go with it.