bummer.

I just did my final presentation for my Independent Study Project. A month of working, focusing, worrying, faffing, sudden urges to organize my suitcase, checking to see if my clothes had dried since fifteen minutes ago... I just finished my presentation. I bombed. Kind of. But a bomb is a bomb, generally exploding all over the place, sometimes coating everyone within exploding distance with something unsavory, potentially causing them to catch on fire immediately, see their lives flash before their eyes, and die in excruciating pain, cursing the bomb with their dying breath. So that was me. The bomb I mean. Maybe I'm being dramatic. But I promise you all, anybody who leaves a comment saying anything to the effect of "I'm sure you did fine" or "You're exaggerating, you did great, I know it," anybody who does that will be killed. Not to disregard the sanctity of life or anything... Just don't do it. After my presentation, our teacher got up and reminded us that we should be mindful of the time limit in our presentations (I had gotten through one-tenth of my presentation when I learned that my time was two-thirds gone) because this is an important part of the presentation, and that we should also be sure to contextualize our projects for the class (I didn't technically say the title or subject of my project, let alone lay out my methodology, or really explain any part of it in a way that a normal human being could potentially comprehend. I began by defining fantasy, then defining reality (as fantasy, interestingly enough) , and proceeding to spray vomit all over my classmates, explaining that this was a way in which I was depicting my fantasyrealitydesireexpectation. I suppose it wasn't really so bad. And anyway, it's over now, and I'm over it. Totally over it.

++++++

After school, I went out with my friends Sally and Gwen. We went shopping in a center called Dilli Haat, Delhi Marketplace for those of you non-fluent in Hindi (or without access to multiple fluent Hindi speakers). Beautiful crafts, everything so lovely. My eyes actually welled up upon seeing a particular Ikat sari (type of woven cloth from Orissa- look it up!).

We returned home to the ashram in which our group is currently residing. We were sitting on Gwen's and my bed, reading some Vogue India and and other such intellectually stimulating reading material, and the planets came into line, the stars reflected an energy not seen since the previous day when I was pretending to send instant messages to Gwen from Dheeraj's facebook. God and Shiva and Kali and Juggernaut all came together and and decided that it was a time for the pressure of the past month to spew out like steam from a teapot - pssshhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeee! What it was that incited our amusement it's hard to say. It was technically a dance that Sally did, while positioned horizontally on the bed, in conjunction with the reddening of her face due to lack of oxygen and the thought that it was very nice to watch her participate in such foolery while she may be slowly dying... I know, it doesn't make sense. Two plus two does not equal four. However, this is what happened. The dancing was done, the comments were made, and laughter ensued. And it wasn't just laughing. It was the kind that lasted for ten minutes straight, egged on by the ridiculousness of the other's physical and vocal contortions, reaching epic proportions in length, volume, and general insanity. We laughed and laughed. And we laughed, and then cried while laughing, causing eyeliner to run amuck and saliva to be unceremoniously evacuated due to prolonged oral...openness. We laughed. Our stomachs hurt. And we laughed, and couldn't breathe, and squeaked, and rolled, and curled and twitched and coughed and laughed and laughed.

When our bodies began to run out of the calories with which to fuel our spasmodic convulsions, there was a knock on the door. A stout Indian woman was there, peering in with a mixture of suspicion and surprise and curiosity, and also with an alarming intensity.

W: What's going on?
A: We're laughing.
W: It's too loud. It is not good. Laughing is not good. Every room is full, and it is not good to be loud.
A: OK.
W: No he he ha ha hoo hoo. Not good.
A: Um...OK. Thank you.