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23.12.2002 | 1:54 a.m. Before I say anything else, I have a new computer- technically my dad's old office computer - and this keyboard is a total piece of crap. i have to hit the keys really fucking hard and it also makes typos really easy. So please excuse my occasional lapse in capitalisation. it takes me ages to type because i spend all my time correcting typos and also my arms hurt because of it. i'm also really mad at myself because being the genius i am, i left my charger for my laptop in london. i deserve a pat on the back for that one, definitely. -------- When I was younger, I looked constantly for an opportunity to meet someone fantastic. Someone who existed only in the realm of my imagination. Every trip was a chance for that someone to be realised, and for us to lead a happy existence together. I always made sure I looked decent when I was travelling. My hair was always perfectly styled, I always wore earrings and I always kept an open eye. As I grew older, I knew that I was wasting my time and energy - disillusionment clouded most of my romantic judgements. Most of Thursday was spent rushing between school and home trying to get my UAE visa done. In a way, all I was trying to do was avoid confronting the fact that I was going to be on a plane that very evening. I did not want to acknowledge the dread and nausea that accompanies me on every flight I take. Considering how much I travel, it really is an unpleasant phobia to have. To make myself feel better, I dressed up. I wore my favourite black shirt, with my favourite pair of jeans and a pair of pretty beaded earrings to complement them. Fortunately, I was having a good hair day too. Not once did I expect that that, among other factors, would come into handy. I met a boy. I was staring at an issue of Uncut, trying to figure out what the odds of me being dead in the next three hours were, when he asked me, "Excuse me, do you know what the price of a travel card in London is?" I'm not sure how we started talking after that but it is the best conversation I've had with a stranger in my entire life. As it turns out, Bob is from Boston, and an anthropology major! How FUCKING great. The only thing sexier than that to me would be a film or music major. We talked about everything from the politics of Bretton Woods' to George Bush's idiocy to the stress of finals. Oh also: As part of his field work, he lived for a year in India and Thailand each, and two years in Ghana. It was great to talk to someone who wasn't Indian about India. In fact, he said he was embarrased by the ways Westerners acted in India - wearing shirts with Sanskrit verses, claiming they had found God, finding everything 'cute' etc. He was really intelligent. I was almost initimidated by him, but he was so easy-going and friendly, that after a long time, I let my guard down to let my natural self talk. A lot. God, I talked a lot. He told me later that I had a fantastic sense of humour. We exchanged e-mail addresses. There's a huge chance he might come to London to do his Master's degree. He was so incredible; it all feels like a dream. I'm pretty sure nothing will really come out of this, but has give me some hope. Maybe fairytales just happen in installments. |
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