June 23, 2003
My grocery store
Well, let's get right to it. This is going to be a post describing a really down day. First of all, let me explain that I have absolutely nothing to complain about. I'm having one of the greatest experiences of my life down here and I'm doing it in style. I've got a bike to ride, I've got music to listen to, and I've got a huge honkin' copy of The Count of Monte Cristo to read. What else could I want? Well, that's personal, but I really shouldn't complain, so let's just get that out of the way: I'm not complaining. I just had a down day, and it can probably be attributed to a dream I had last night. I dreamt that I was at home in Maryland when the telephone rang. I answered, and my sister was on the other end of the line. She asked to speak to our father, but before I could give him the phone she told me, "mom's dead." The shock! I was absolutely dumbfounded for a moment and began to cry when I realized that it couldn't be real and I woke myself up. It was horrifying. Now here's where it gets worse: I slipped back into a variation of the same dream, only this time my mother was terminally ill and would die within a matter of days. On top of that, I found out that another young woman that I love dearly was dying out in Utah. I had to devise a way to say goodbye to my mother and fly out to Utah to say goodbye to my beloved friend. Oh! It was horrible! And vivid! I wandered my Maryland suburb, choking on my tears, not knowing how I would cope with the loss. It was far too real, and I woke up exhausted and miserable.
Untitled
I packed my backpack for the bike ride into work. Shoes, shirt, pants, tie, socks: ready to go. Clad in my bathing suit and a t-shirt, I pedaled in under the low morning sun and passed a man lying on top of a drain on the side of the road. I rode right along, but stopped myself and decided to turn back to take a picture of him. I asked his permission and offered him 10 reais (about $3.50). He refused the money by shaking his head, but he didn't seem to mind the pictures. I would have liked to take more pictures, but I felt uncomfortable doing it and I couldn't quite get the shot that I wanted. Plus, the shadow of a lamp-post was covering his face. Anyhow, I guess I'm going to have to learn how to work with my subjects more it if I'm ever going to win that Pulitzer.
I arrived at the embassy and hit the shower. Upon exiting the stall, I realized that I had brought neither underwear, nor a belt. I suppose, that the dream that I had last night had really fouled me up. I wore my bathing suit under my trousers and hoped that people wouldn't notice the thinness of my shirt. My quest for hardbody á la John Basedow, has led to a loss of my love-handles and my belt was sorely missed. Of course, nobody noticed my missing belt or barely visible nipples until I pointed them out. Anyhow, work was great. I started doing research on the Brazilian Development Bank for my next project and I stumbled across an article about Morrissey in one of the Brazilian newspapers (Folha de S.Paulo). Another nice part of the day was that I was able to keep track of the amazing new nerd announcements made by Apple this afternoon.
But the day's real bonus was the last-minute news informing me that I will be sent by the embassy to the city of Belo Horizonte in order to attend a seminar called "The New Ethical Challenges of State, Business, and Civil Society." I was planning on going to the seminar anyway because it has been organized by the Inter-American Initiative on Social Capital, Ethics and Development where I used to work. However, when I asked my superior for leave to attend the seminar, he informed me that they might be able to send me. I never would have expected that! Anyhow, I'm going on official embassy business, and that's what the Brazilians would call legal.
With all of that great stuff, I was still down. Too much emotional stress, it's a killer. I went to a great water aerobics class and hopped back on the bike after the sun had already gone down. A huge smokey fire was burning somewhere and the ordinarily clear air was hazy, the street lamps shining through the branches in shafts onto the street. I rode through the early evening with a flashing yellow light clipped to my backpack, listening to depressing Pinback that made my mood even worse. The smoke, the pesky traffic, my tired heart...it was so sad! But at least I can feel again. There was a time when I wouldn't let myself feel anything at all. Eventually, some rockin' Black Rebel Motorcycle Club came into the queue on my iPod and the guitars-of-fury got me pedaling hard enough and moving fast enough to forget my imagined woes for a bit. However, it didn't come on before I rode past the source of the night's haze.
Nightfire
I got home, ate tacos, watched Friends with Rosa, but only in order to read the Portuguese subtitles for language practice. That show is so lame. Ivan is learning how to play the guitar so he asked for some help with that. That's always nice. Then a guy that I baptized while on my mission in Venezuela appeared online and wanted to chat. He had nothing but good news for me. He's working hard to keep the faith and to be happy. He's trying to help other people and it sounds like he's doing well. That was marvelous. And yet, I'm still a little sad. But that's alright; I miss someone a lot. I guess that's it. Yeah, that's probably all it is.
music listened to while writing: DJ Shadow's The Private Press