India | existabovethenoise

I’m back in school and it feels as if I never left. It’s all too familiar – that nagging sense that I should be reading, writing, editing, reviewing something. I go out to parties and I feel deadlines creeping up on me like unwanted advances from guys without all their teeth. Everywhere I go, I feel menaced. I feel watched – watched by the God of graduate school guilt. He is not a merciful God, especially when He doesn’t actually listen to my suggestions for ways to shut down the city so that I have more time to study for a final.

A friend of mine once said it’s only when faced with school that we wish ourselves bodily harm. How many distant relatives have we wished hospitalized so that we’d be excused from taking exams? How many times have I said, “just shoot me now” and meant it? Who needs both kidneys anyway?

So, why am I back in school? After all, this isn’t undergrad. Nobody made me go. I don’t need this diploma. I have no idea what I was thinking when I registered for this distance learning course. Well, that’s kind of a lie. I thought things like: This is a good idea. It’s cheaper than in the U.S. You can get global exposure. You can manage this while having a full-time job. I didn’t think things like: You have a full-time job, fullll tiiimmeee. Under eye bags are irreversible. You stopped owning notecards three years ago. You’re talking about an Indian university (think of any HBCU and make the administration 5 times less responsive to your needs). And now that I’m turning in assignments, and wracking my brain for a paper proposal and freaking out that I’ll actually have to take exams – I’m thinking that now might be a good time to pretend like I broke my arm.

Do I really want a PhD after all? If I do, then I can’t do it while working – that’s just a death wish. Right? But I can’t be broke again either. Me and myself (the sane, objective me in the third person) we decided that being broke was no longer an option. Is higher education a good reason to go back on that notion?

Do I have to pretend that I’m smart now? I really don’t want to have to eat, sleep, and breathe my studies. People will ask me cultural questions over dinner and it’ll be embarrassing when I don’t answer with anything that they couldn’t find on wikipedia. I tend to act like a petulant child when asked to prove my knowledge in public settings – I throw my fork on the floor and pretend like its their job to pick it up. And then I throw up on their head when they bend down to retrieve the fork. (I was a precocious 3-year-old) I don’t like being put on the spot, and I don’t like being doubted – especially in public. But isn’t that what getting a PhD is? Always being asked to prove, in a very Freudian way, that my obelisk is brainier than my contemporary’s.

I digress. In the making of this blog post, I have successfully procrastinated yet one more hour. I could have read about the Indian Diaspora, or drafted my paper synopsis, or practiced my Indian head bobble. But, instead I chose to ponder the repercussions of a PhD program for which I have not yet applied. This, my friends, is the delirium of being an adult student. My quest for knowledge has shredded my logical decision-making capabilities and stressed me to the extent of sheer stupidity. And, with that, I’m taking a nap.

*drops my No. 2 pencil and walks out of home office*

I’ve been off the blog for a few weeks for pure lack of content. Can you believe it? I live in India and I have nothing to say! Well, just to catch you up on what’s been going on in my life, I decided that today’s blog would be the highlights of the last few weeks. Where I’ve been, who I’ve been hanging with, what I’ve been pretending I’m too busy to do…you know, the day to day nothings. Here is the brief and wondrous synopsis of my last two weeks above the noise:

Trying to find my next assignment has been the death of me since August of last year. I have literally been thrown into a tizzy in finding the right gig, losing the right gig, fishing up other options with other benefits and weighing them against other hypothetical possibilities. Long story short, I am NOT going to Ethiopia. I’ve recently accepted a position in Mozambique and, I pray the gods have no objection to this one!

Two friends of mine are getting married soon – one in Paris in September, and another in the States in April. I’ve been browsing dresses, pricing flights, and looking at my treadmill with loathsome disdain. I’m excited for these nuptials, but finding a way to squeeze myself into something flattering is a fight for another day.

I’ve got a new beau, and it has been very difficult for me to contain my excitement. I’m pretty sure that this man is going to turn out to be Prince Akeem of Zamunda. It has all been so fast and so good – I’m feeling like Mariah Carey in the Bahamas ya’ll. I got friends sending me kitchy India Arie love songs now. It’s just been an all around mush fest these last few weeks. Life is good.

I have a few papers that won’t write themselves. I’m pursuing a post grad diploma here in India, and uhhh, I have 5 assignments due this week for reading in 5 books. I have only read one. AND, I promised another professor I would write a comparative literature article for a journal. I have only read one of the two books. Did I mention I have a new beau?

What’s more thrilling than procrastination you ask? My decision to get my taxes prepared by someone other than my mother! Yea, so in addition to whatever Uncle Sam tiefs, I will also be $600 broker when it’s all said and done. “Get your hand out my pocket!”

I’ve been looking into Lasik. It’s all the rage now and since it’s significantly less expensive to get these kinds of procedures done in India, I’m considering taking the leap as well. I’ve been to two doctors in the last month, because the first one gave me the skeevies. Imagine talking about burning your cornea with a laser with a guy who speaks like a used car salesman. I was not impressed. The new place I’m going actually told me that my corneas were too thin for Lasik, so now I’m looking into implantable contact lenses. This would mean no glasses until cataract sets in. (I’m sure this doesn’t strike you as the most thrilling update here, but I swear it’s been a fascinating experience.)